


What the hell am I doing here?!

by SpookyFaces



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Brendon is always drunk, Fluff and Angst, Frerard, M/M, Ryan is always moody, Ryden, They all live in one house, They are friends who fuck from time to time, and mikey, joshler - Freeform, things are complicated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-01-06 21:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12219219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyFaces/pseuds/SpookyFaces
Summary: Ryan is never okay. His coffee is always too dark, the weather never gives a damn about him, he is never satisfied with his one-night-stand and of course, Brendon is always pissing him off. Brendon is never drunk/high enough to face the reality. His room is as messy as the post-apocalypse world from Josh's video game. Josh loves boys,who have fluffy brown hair, quiet voice and crooked teeth. But he hates Tyler. Tyler wishes this house could get quiet for a minute. He always steals Gerard's hair dye for his art. Gerard wants to strangle the unknown dick who always leaves burnt bread in the toaster. And he loves Frank. Frank loves his comics way too much. But he loves his red-haired demon more.And where the hell has Mikey gone again?They all live in one house. How did this happen? How are they still alive? That's the mystery neither of them could solve. But they survive.





	1. Welcome to the Black Par-Oh, look, a beigel

**Author's Note:**

> Get ready for awkward-angsty-slutty drama. Oh, I love these boys.

It's not that Ryan doesn't love rain. He does, really. But only if he's at home, wrapped in the warm blanket, holding his huge mug of hot tea and watching Harry Potter. Yeah, in that case, you could say that Ryan doesn't hate rain. But right now he is soaking wet. Like, proper wet, with water dripping from his curls and his bones shaking from the cold. His backpack is too heavy, his boots are full of water and Jesus, why isn't anybody answering the door?!

He knocks once again, harder this time. He can feel his knuckles turning into the ice cubes. The world is against him,as always. 

Finally, he hears the footsteps approaching. The door reveals sleep-headed Brendon. His hair is messy, eyebrows furrowed and.. He is not wearing a shirt. 

Ew.

Ryan rolls his eyes and pushes past the boy. He places his backpack on the floor and takes off his wet scarf. There's a weird black bag laying in the corner.

"What the fuck were you doing out in this weather?" - Brendon asks confused. Ryan wants to punch him. He turns around to face the boy.

"I had a class. Not all of us are lazy-asses, ya know."

Brendon flipped him off while padding to the kitchen. 

"Where's everyone?" - Ryan asks as he finally strips himself from the wet clothes and is left in his underwear. Brendon's too busy preparing himself coffee to look up, thanks God.

"Sleeping, it's what normal people do-Jesus Christ!" - Brendon whimpers as he lifts his gaze and sees half-naked Ryan standing in the hallway. 

"Wow, I've never been compared to that guy before, thanks mate." - Ryan flushes him a fake grin. "Bathroom's gonna be occupied for a while. I nearly froze my ass off." 

He can hear Brendon's quiet mumble about how blind he got from Ryan's whiteness, but his own shaking limbs and red nose are more important right now. Gerard's underwear is hanging on the shower curtain rail. Sweet.

Brendon sighs before opening the fridge for the tenth time and glancing over the food. He grabs butter from Frank's section because why not? The fucker always steals his juice. He approaches the counter and starts preparing himself a toast. He places the bread into the toaster. Well, he tries at least. Of course, there it is, a black,burnt toast hanging around in the toaster like it fucking belongs there. Like it fucking owns it. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake, if I find out who's leaving this shit in, I'll break your vertebras!" - He yells and throws the black piece into the garbage can. Adios.

"Why do my mornings always start with you yelling?" - He hears a sigh. Brendon turns around only to be met with bright red hair and tired eyes.

"Morning, Way Senior." - Brendon grins. "What's up?"

"Well, I've decided to skip classes today." - Gerard shrugs as he sits down on the chair and starts twisting a fork between his fingers. "I mean, who goes out in this weather?"

"Ross does."

"Ross never skips classes. Sometimes I think it's his way of running away from us."

"Well, I don't judge." - Brendon mumbles. "Frank still sleeping?"

"Yeap. He's got work tonight." - The red-head drops the fork and gets up from his seat. " 'M gonna brush my teeth."

"Ross is taking shower."

"What? You've let him take a shower in morning?! You know he uses all the water, man!" - Gerard whines. 

"He came home wet like a pussy, have some pity."

"Where's a pussy?" 

"Morning, Dun." - Gerard greets his friend, who walks into the room wearing a stupid Pokemon pajamas. "Let me ask once again, when are you going to burn that shit?"

"Never. I love my pajamas." - Josh tuck his tongue out.

"Too much of colorful heads in the kitchen. Get out, I'm preparing myself some food." - Brendon mumbles.

"Is that Frank's butter?" - Gerard notices.

"Fuck off, Way. Or I'll tell Josh you ate his pie last week."

"It was you?!" - Josh gasps. 

Gerard's betrayed gaze lifts at Brendon.

 

* * *

Waking up in the complete darkness, feeling warm and protected under your blanket doesn't really help you with getting up. Tyler would agree. Especially when you have two pieces of art to finish due tomorrow and all you've done so far is drawn a huge line with a pencil. Yeah, that's it. Remind him, why didn't he draw them during the last couple of days? Actually no, don't remind him that. 

The blanket slides off his shoulders as Tyler finally decides to lift is ass off the bed. Shivers run down his spine as his bare foot touch the floor underneath him. He approaches the curtains and opens them. How naive he was to think that light would crawl into his room. Everything he sees is a rainy, foggy darkness. He sighs and grabs his hoodie from the floor. Tyler walks out of his room while putting his hoodie on. He can smell that something is burning. It means one thing - Urie's in the kitchen. Not that others can cook, but Brendon's the worst. Tyler walks down the stairs and dives into the kitchen. There he is. Brendon Urie, in all his beauty, trying to scribble the burnt toast from his plate.

"You're the one leaving burnt toasts in the toaster, ain't ya?" - Tyler asks.

Brendon's eyes go wide as he looks up from his plate.

"Are you kidding me?! Of course not!"

"Well, can't blame me for assuming, can ya?" - Tyler nods towards the boy's plate. Brendon grunts and goes back to washing it. 

Tyler walks around the counter and grabs a box of cereal. Of course he's not going to eat it from the bowl, with milk like a normal person. Nope, he's gonna stick his hand into the box and stuff his mouth full of cereal. 

"You're disgusting." - Brendon notes calmly. Tyler agrees.

"At least he doesn't leave his dirty brushes in the sink. Oh,wait.. " - Josh hisses. Tyler nearly drops his cereal. He turns around quickly and gasps.

"What the-How long have you been here?!"

"Since you came in." - Josh shrugs, confusion written over his face.

"You're creepy, you know that,right?"

"Please. You've been sleeping under Brendon's bed for a week, waiting if he'd find out."

"It was an experiment!"

"You what?!" - Brendon drops a plate.

"See, he failed it. He did not notice it." - Tyler shrugs.

"I-What-You've heard me-"

"Masturbating? Yeah, I did. I even heard whose name you were moaning."

"Jesus, shut up!" - Brendon shrieks and tries to cover Tyler's mouth.

"Tastes like butter. Nice." - Tyler mumbles, trying to get released from Brendon's touch. "I'm going back to my room, I have to paint. Don't you dare to disturb me. Any of you."

"Disturb you?! You've been sleeping under my bed! Oh, I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Don't. The bathroom's occupied." - Gerard mumbles. 

Tyler screams and turns around.

"How long have _you_ been here?!"

"Since you came in."

* * * 

Knocks can be different. A soft one, for example. When you knock into your child's room, with love and gentleness. Surprised knock. When you think the bathroom's empty, but it's not. A quiet knock, for when you're trying to find out whether or not the bedroom's occupied by someone having sex. And then there's Frank's knock.

Five loud, brain-piercing, blood-freezing knocks. It's hard not to fall off the bed from surprise. Mikey fails and ends up on the floor with a loud grunt.

"Hey, 're you up?" - Frank asks gently. Like it covers for his banging on the door.

"Down,actually." - Mikey mumbles and scribbles himself up from the floor. He opens the door and sighs. "What do you want?"

"Look, I-Can I come in?" - Frank walks past Mikey without waiting for a response.

"Sure." - Mikey turns around and crosses arms on his chest. 

"I bought something. For-For Gee." - Frank's cheeks get red. Mikey rolls his eyes. 

"And?"

"I need you to check it out. I mean, you're his brother, you know what he likes,right?"

"And you're the guy that's been fucking him for the whole year. You know him better that I do."

"Fair point." - Frank nods. "But still.. Here, let me show you."

He grabs a small box from his pocket and lifts it up for Mikey to see.

"Wow. Wow, you bought him a box." - Mikey raises his brow.

"No, it's not-Wait." - The dark-haired boy opens the box.

"It's not ring, is it? I mean, I don't think I'm ready to have nieces-"

"It's not a ring. Look."

Mikey looks down at the box. He stares and stares and stares. The looks up at Frank.

"It's a pin." - He states.

"It's a special pin!" - Frank whisper-screams. "It's a pin Stan Lee wore for his first presentation of comics back in 1961!"

"You want my brother to have heart-attack?" - Mikey gasps. 

"So you think he'll like it?"

"Like it? Frank, Gerard sold his phone back in high school to buy a fucking collection of "Fantastic Four" comics." - Mikey shakes his head. 

"Oh, thanks God. I was so worried." - Frank sighs with a relief. "Please, don't tell him. Not yet."

"Fine." - Mikey shrugs. "Now come on, you owe me, make me something to fill my stomach with."

"Deal."

* * * 

Tyler locks himself up in his room. He drains the curtains, places the cereal box on the floor next to his easel. He sits down, legs crossed and fingers curled around the brush.

He waits.

Nothingness fills up his head. The rains stops for sometime. But then it starts to rain harder. It feels like their roof will get pierced.

Tyler waits.

The water motor stops, the annoying buzzing gets cut off. It means Ryan finally gets out of the bathroom. 

Ryan _did_ use all the water.

Tyler waits.

* * *

With a towel wrapped around his waist, Ryan walks out of the steaming bathroom and shakes his wet head. Tiny droplets fly away from his curls and of course, one of them end up on Brendon's cheek, who was wiping the floor.

"Hey!" - He yells.

"Well, now you don't need to shower." - Ryan shrugs. Brendon rolls his eyes and gets back to wiping the floor. "Why the hell are you spending morning tidying up this shit hole?"

"I don't have anything else to do."

"And you're high."

"And I'm high."

Ryan scoffs and flops down on the couch, grabbing the remote.

"Josh left for classes. Frank and Mikey aren't up yet. Gee went for groceries and Tyler's in his room, painting." - Brendon states.

"Um, okay? Why the fuck do I care?" - Ryan asks confused.

"It means we're alone for a while." - Brendon finally leaves the floor alone and approaches the couch Ryan has occupied.

"So what?"

"You know what." - Brendon says quietly.

"Oh. _Oh._ No. Look, I've told you it was one time-"

"It happened six times."

"Okay, six-time-thing. It's not-We're never doing it again." - Ryan shakes his head and gets back to watching TV.

"You liked it." - Brendon says as he nears Ryan and gets on the knees in front of him, his eyes on the same level with the curly boy.

"No, I did not." - Ryan scoffs. "You're blocking the sight."

"Liar." - Brendon suddenly grabs Ryan's hair between his fingers and tugs his curls weakly. 

"Don't touch me. " - Ryan hisses, his face inches away from Brendon.

"Or what?" - Brendon smirks, rising his eyebrow.

"Get. Away. From. Me."

"Or what, Ross?"

Ryan's lips suddenly lock Brendon's plump ones. How did this happen? Neither of them knew. Brendon lets out a growl as Ryan sucks on his bottom lip and pushes his tongue inside the raven-haired boy's mouth. His fingers run down Brendon's spine, clutching him like his life depended on it. Brendon responds, fuck, of course he does. He gently bites Ryan's lip and moans.

Ryan is everywhere. His hands are capturing him. His lips are sucking the life out of him. _Wow, did he just quote Muse?_

But then he's gone. Brendon opens his eyes only to see Ryan walking out of the living room. He turns around only to ask

"It doesn't mean anything. You don't mean anything. You know that, right?" 

Brendon swallows the lump formed in his throat and nods. Ryan nods back and disappears into the hallway.

Brendon's been in love with Ryan Ross for two fucking years. So it wasn't the end of the world that he didn't mean anything to Ross. 

Okay, yes, it was.


	2. Excuse me, could you please leave?

_*Tyler.*_

It turns out it's not the best idea - showing up to your art class with two pieces of complete rubbish. Tyler mentally rolls his eyes as he listens to the monotone voice of his professor. He has a piece of spinach stuck between his teeth. He reminds Tyler of Yzma from _The Emperor's New Groove_. Oh, he hasn't seen that movie in ages.

"..And I think you're lacking the inspiration, Tyler. Your works are dull, empty, emotionless. It feels like you feel nothing towards your own creation. Like you don't feel anything at all."

Wow, shocker.

"You need to try harder, boy. This-" - The man holds up one of Tyler's rubbish pieces. "This is not enough. This is not you."

Tyler nods along, because he knows it's true. This is not him. Nothing is him. 

"I'm expecting something bigger from you next week. Put your soul in it, feel something, Tyler."

When he leaves the building, it's still raining. It's been raining for two days now. Tyler drapes a hood over his head and throws his backpack over the shoulder. He's still clutching his paintings when he approaches the garbage can. He throws papers inside, right into the mess of rotting food and something that looked like a dead cat. Good. That's where Tyler's art deserves to be. That's where he deserves to be. He even considers crawling inside the bin and staying there for the rest of his life, but instead he just sighs and walks away.

He wishes he could say that he felt like shit. That he felt disappointed, sad, angry. But the truth is - he did not feel anything. He never feels anything this days. 

Maybe that's why his art turned into shit. Maybe that's why he became the shit himself.

Not even a single thought has visited him on his way home. His head is empty. His mind is foggy. He grabs keys from his pocket and opens the front door. The minute he steps in, he hears the strange voice coming from the living room. Tyler shuts the door and walks into the room, not giving a damn about his dirty boots. 

"What are you doing?" - He asks with his brow raised.

He sees Josh Dun sitting on the coffee table, several saucepans resting on his lap. His fingers are curled around two of Tyler's brushes. He is drumming. On the saucepans. With Tyler's brushes. _Tyler's_ brushes.

Tyler's voice seems to stop him. He jumps a little and drops one of the brushes down to the floor. Tyler's heart drops with it. They are bloody expensive,okay? He's been skipping breakfast for a month to collect enough money for them.

"Oh-Shit. Hi, you-you're home." - Josh mumbles. He doesn't pick the brush up. 

"I am. Hello." - Tyler says. His eyes are still glued on the brush. 

"I got bored and decided to play-"

"Please, pick it up." - Tyler says suddenly. Josh's eyes go wide. 

"Wh-What?"

"The brush. Please pick the brush up."

Josh looks down and finally notices the poor tool laying on the floor lonely. He picks it up quickly, his face is flushed red.

"I-I'm sorry, I couldn't find anything else to play with."

"It's okay." _It's not._ Tyler shrugs off his bag and approaches Josh. He gently picks his brushes up and stuffs them into the pocket of his hoodie.

"Um, what did your professor say? Your works were due today, weren't they?" - _Yeah, like you care._

"He told me they are complete garbage,"

"What?! He said that?" - The pink-haired boy gasped. _Oh, did Tyler say how annoyingly bright Joshua's hair is?_

"No. But he meant that. I don't really care. Plus, he's right." - Tyler shrugs. Josh is still sitting on the coffee table, staring up at him.

"He's a dick, ain't he? Your art is really good." - He mumbles. Tyler blinks at him. _This isn't right. Josh hates his guts._

"I thought you hated my stupid, pointless art." - He quotes Josh from the week before, when the he stumbled over Tyler's easel.

"I didn't mean it." - Josh's cheeks are growing red again. That's weird. Tyler shrugs once again and decides to go to his room. He had to mope all week now, it was his mission. He grabbed his bag and stepped out of the living room.

"Sorry about your brushes!" - Josh yells. Tyler forgives him.

* * * 

_*Josh*_

Having the colorful hair is fun. But not always. Not especially when somebody finds your hair strand in the food. Because you can't say "that's not my pink hair." Because it is. Josh got an hour-long lecture from Brendon about keeping his curly head away from Brendon's food. It's only 12 p.m. and he's already tired. Brendon's and energy-sucking vampire. Everybody in this house wants to strangle Brendon and it's probably the only thing all of them agree about. 

Josh pauses his video game and gets up from the floor for the only purpose - get himself soda. Frank's soda, to be more exact. He won't even notice. And even if he will - it's okay. Frank's probably the dick who leaves the burned toasts in the toaster, so he deserves to be robbed.

He opens the door and takes a step. But he trips over something. He almost falls down with his face and breaks his nose. But he doesn't, probably because of the karate lessons his mother took him to when he was 10. Thanks, mom.

Josh groans and looks down.

"If you fuckers left your shoes in front of my door again I-" - He cuts himself off.

Those aren't shoes. 

A pair of new drumsticks is laying on the floor beside his room. 

Tyler had to skip breakfast for one more week. But he felt nice. He _felt_.


	3. Northern Downpour sends its condolences

_Brendon_

There's 7 of them living in this house. There's 6 messy losers shitting in every corner, and there's Brendon - housewife of their "sect". He hates dirty dishes, he hates dusty shelves and God, he hates disgusting bathroom piles. That's why he always ends up at 7 a.m. with a broom in his hand. And today he needs to clean the balcony while it finally has stopped raining. 

He's got earphones stuck in his ears, AC/DC blasting through his cranium and crushing his ear bones. He spots a weird blue smudge on the wall. That's probably Tyler's paint. 

He's too busy with tidying up to notice Ryan behind his back. His music is too loud to hear the curly boy's "We're out of the bread." He's too concentrated to realize the boy has neared him.

He feels a weak tap on his shoulder. Startled, he drops the broom and turns around in the speed of light. 

Their noses brush together. _Wow._

He's face to face with Ryan. The boy's curls are touching Brendon's cheeks and sending stupid shivers down his spine. He's got an oversized red hoodie on, that makes him look even more tinier than he is. And that is _really_ tiny. 

"What?!" - Brendon cracks, his voice breaks and so does his pride. Ryan smirks.

"I said, we're out of the bread." - He nears Brendon even more, and raven-haired boy can feel his hot breath on his lips. _Wow, the world is spinning._

"I-Um, it's M-Mikey's turn to get groceries, tell him." - Brendon manages to mumble, his eyes glued on the honey-orbs in front of him.

"He's asleep. So I figured you'd tell him." - Ryan whispers,smirk still plastered on his face.

"Why can't you?" - Brendon finally snaps and tries to push the boy off, but Ryan grabs his wrists suddenly and keeps him in a spot.

" 'Cause I'm leavin' for classes." - Ryan shrugs.

"Right. Of course you are." - Brendon tries to get rid of his grip.

But then there's a hand touching his neck. There are butterflies flying in his stomach.

Ryan leans forward, their lips barely touching. It's only for a second, but enough for Brendon's heart to start hammering the same beat he was listening to this morning. His breath got caught. He shuts his eyes tightly and waits. _Nothing._

He opens his eyelids and sees Ryan's satisfied grin. His hand is still touching Brendon's neck.

"How pathetic." - Ryan breathes and shakes his head.

Brendon wants to strangle him. And himself. He got caught in Ryan's trap once again. He feels humiliated, angry, devastated even. His bottom lip trembles and fuck, he feels tears gathering in his eyes. _Jesus, I really am pathetic._ He slaps Ryan's hand off and turns his back on the boy. He grabs the broom with his shaking hands and tries to go back to what he was doing before.

"Oh, come on, cry-baby." - Ryan barks a laugh. "You didn't really think I'd kiss you, did ya?"

_Just go to your fucking classes already._

"Poor, poor Brendon. His feelings always get played with. His heart is so broken, oh Lord." - Ryan mocks him. He's standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed on his chest while his eyes pierce Brendon's back.

_Those honey-colored, stupidly attractive orbs._

"You're so pathetic." - Ryan finally grits and turns around to leave.

"Fuck you." - Brendon whispers, loud enough for the boy to hear. But before he can say anything else, Ryan is gone. 

* * * 

_* Ryan *_

He lights a cigarette and lets it rest between his lips. It's cold outside. November is the worst month out of all. Leaves have already fallen, the Sun is gone and Christmas is yet too far. So November is nothing. _Ryan can relate._ He grabs the phone from his pocket and goes through all the messages he got this week. He never checks his messages and that's probably bad. But he doesn't give a damn.

Dunshine: _"Grab some toilet paper on your way home, will ya?"_

He rolls his eyes and deletes the message. Josh is a lazy ass who always forgets to buy groceries. Ryan is almost one hundred percent sure he leaves the burnt toast in the toaster. Oh, did Ryan tell you that last month Josh brought a fucking kitten home? He tried to hide the creature in his room for 3 days, until it somehow managed to escape and crawled under the kitchen counter. It fucking meowed when Mikey approached the counter. Brendon was hysterical. _Oh, speaking of devil._

Urie: _Hi. It's Brendon. In case you don't have my number, even though we've been living together for two years. Anyways, we're going to order pizza, want some?"_

And then there's another one.

Urie: _I've saved some pizza for you, it's in the microwave. Margarita, your favorite. Yeah. Bye._

Something stings in his heart. To be honest, he doesn't hate Brendon. How could he? The kid is a definition of perfect-looking guy. But that's not all. They've hooked up several times. And yes, Ryan still thinks about that. But he can't let himself get attached to something or somebody. It never ends well. So he deletes the texts and tried hard not to feel like dick. He fails. 

The Jacket Slut: _I think I've cheated on Frank._

Oh. That's not good. Gerard and Frank have been together for a year now. Frank is balls deep in love with Gerard. And Gerard.. Well, he probably likes Frank,too.. 

Ryan finally gets to the last message. It's from a number Ryan would recognize everywhere. He never saved it. How would he name the number? _Mom_ ? Yeah, right. More like a _Bitch that left me years ago with an alcoholic excuse of a father._ His mother's face is suddenly in front of his sight. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Ryan opens the text.

(378) 400-1234 : _Your father died._

* * *

_Brendon_

He successfully moped the floor in the hallway and wiped the dust from the counters. He even almost forgot Ryan's stupid grin from earlier. Brendon holds the big cup of coffee as he approaches the stand with mail. They need to sort this shit out. He spots a letter from Tyler's school from last month, bills, ads and _Ew_ is that a "Playboy"?

Brendon's face twists from disgust as he lets the magazine fall from his hand. He will shove it up Dun's ass so the boy doesn't forget to take it to his room.

The door shuts loudly behind his back. Brendon turns around on his heel and meets the same stupid eyes he's been thinking for the whole day.

Ryan looks.. Strange? 

His hair is messy, nose and eyes red, he's barely standing on his feet. He's clutching his backpack and staring at Brendon. Brendon spots a vodka bottle unsuccessfully hidden in his bag. He glances at the watches on the wall. _It's only 5 p.m. Even I don't drink this early._

"What are you-" - His voice gets cut off when he sees Ryan stumbling towards him. Ryan stops inches away from Brendon and he can now smell the alcohol.

"You're drunk." - Brendon states. Ryan nods, his lips stretched in thin line, face blank and expressionless. 

"Okay. Well, I don't care." - Brendon shrugs and takes a step back. "Just don't puke on the floor, I've cleaned it."

"I want you." - Ryan slurs. 

Brendon's breath stops. And he thinks his heart has just exploded. With his eyes wide, he looks at Ryan, shock written all over his face.

"I want you to fuck me to hard I can't remember my own name."

Brendon shakes his head, lips twisting from disgust.

"Get away from me." - He hisses.

"Please." - Ryan's eyes suddenly are full of sadness. Brendon tries not to care.

"No. No-You're drunk and it's disgusting. This morning you-"

"Please, Brendon." - Ryan falls down on his knees. Brendon tries to stop him but ends up going down with him. His knees hit the floor. _It hurt._ The cup shatters near them. _It's his favorite cup._

"Please, please, baby. Please, take me. Fuck me, I want to feel you. I want to forget everything." - Ryan's whimpering, his hands wondering on Brendon's chest and face. Brendon's heart breaks.

"Ryan.. Ryan what happened?" - He whispers.

"Fuck me. Yes, fuck me, wanna fell you inside of me. Come on,baby" - Ryan sounds maniac, his pupils are wide and _fuck_ Brendon's scared. He grabs Ryan's hands and shoves them away from his body. He cups Ryan's cheeks and forces him to look him straight into the eyes.

"Stop!" - He growls. The echo fills up the house. Ryan's breath hitches, he looks like he's been slapped. But he stops.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" - Brendon continues to yell, hands firmly holding Ryan's face. "You played with me this morning. You made fun of me. You humiliated me. And now you want me to fuck you?! Who do you think I am, a slut like you?!"

Ryan's staring. His eyes are wide and lips parted. This is not what he expected to get.

"You-You get drunk in the middle of the fucking day and beg me to fuck you, this is fucking low, Ross." - Brendon hisses. 

Ryan hangs his head low, finally disconnecting with Brendon's gaze. His whole body trembles. Brendon knows he said to much, but he is so angry. So fucking angry for getting played. He's not a sex-toy.

"You're disgusting." - He grits and gets up from his knees,leaving Ryan on the floor. He starts picking up the sharp pieces of the broken cup, because he knows Tyler will end up stepping on one of them. The prick always walks bare-footed. 

He hears a quiet sob from behind his back.

He can't stop a gasp leaving his lips when he turns around and sees tear paths smeared on Ryan's cheeks. He has never seen him cry. Not even once in two years. Never. _Is Ryan crying because of what he said?_ He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

Ryan lifts his eyes and meets Brendon's gaze.

"My father died."

The broken pieces fall from Brendon's hand. He stumbles a little, but manages to balance himself. The air got too heavy suddenly. 

He doesn't even register how fast the next events happen. Somehow, he's near Ryan, his arms locking the thin boy's frame into embrace, his shirt is getting wet from tears, his neck is occupied with Ryan's face, the boy's locks brushing his cheeks. 

"I'm sorry. Baby, I'm sorry. It's gonna be okay. I'm sorry I said those things.." - Brendon mumbles, as he holds Ryan in his hands. He knows Ryan won't remember anything next morning. He knows that his father's death will affect him for longer than he expects. 

He knows it's going to be hard.

"You're okay. I'm here, I've got you."

"M-Make me forget." - Ryan sobs quietly. 

"No. No, I can't this isn't right. You don't deserve this. You will regret it." - Brendon shakes his head.

"Fuck you." - Ryan whispers, but his hand clutches Brendon's shirt even harder. Brendon sighs and places a kiss on the top of Ryan's curly head.

"Let's get you into the bed."

Brendon manages to carry Ryan into his bedroom. Stumbling on every step, he's sure Ryan will end up face down on the floor, so he holds him closer to his chest. He lays the boy down on the bed and starts stripping him of clothes. He takes off Ryan's hoodie, pants, socks and leaves the underwear on. He's already hard enough even without seeing Ryan's dick. 

He covers the boy's thin body with a blanket and sits down beside him. Ryan's body is shaking. Brendon gently strokes the hair away from the boy's face and sighs.

"Please, don't go." - Ryan whispers quietly. Brendon doesn't need anything else to be said. He crawls under the blanket and locks his arms around Ryan's chest. He inhales the boy's smell that makes his head spin.

"I am sorry for everything."

"Shut up." - Brendon mumbles. After less than ten minutes, Ryan's breath steadies and slows down. He's asleep, Brendon knows his breathing pattern too well. _Wow, creepy._

He places a kiss on Ryan's temple and nuzzles his nose into his neck.

"I love you, you selfish dick. And I hate you. Even more than the burnt toasts in the toaster." - He breathes shakily and smiles. They're gonna be okay.


	4. I know the world's a broken vase

_*Gerard*_

He opens the fridge, crouching in front of his shelf. He can't stop a gasp leaving his lungs. Somebody drank his orange juice. The whole fucking carton. Even though it was resting on _his_ shelf. He swallowed hardly and shut the door of the fridge loudly.He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. A tiny magnetic blackboard was staring at him. **Where's Mikey?** It was Tyler's handwriting. He loved whipping away important stuff and writing movie quotes over them. He's probably erased the groceries list or something. Good job. 

Speaking of Tyler, is he alive? The guy hasn't came out of the room for days. Probably struggling from the lack of inspiration. Gerard suggested to pose for him, but he only got the raised middle finger as the response, so he dropped the idea. But he'd be a great model. He's sure of that.

He hears footsteps approaching him from the behind. he turns around on his heel and looks down to meet his boyfriend's eyes. Yes, Frank is tiny. Not _that_ tiny, but still tiny.

His heart twists from the memories of last Monday. _Party. Drinks. Lots of drinks. Ray Toro from Physics department. Waking up naked._

"Gee." - Frank grins. 

"Frankie." - He nods.

"I have something for you."

Gerard blinks.

"Okay. Ready?" - Frank's hand goes to his pocket. Gerard shuts his eyes and waves his hands violently.

"No, no, if that's what I think it is I-"

"I'm not proposing." - Frank rolls his eyes. Gerard sighs with a relief.

"Yeah. Okay."

"It's something bigger. Greater. Look!"

He stares down. There's a small pin in the velvet box. 

"It's-"

"Yeap. The one. Stan Lee, 1961, "Fantastic four" presentation-"

"In Chicago." - Gerard breaths.

"Do you-Do you like it?" - Frank asks, his lips stretched in smile.

Gerard can't contain it anymore. He's going to explode. Oops, here it goes-

"I think I cheated on you."

Frank blinks. The box drops on the floor.

* * *

_*Josh*_

One more t-shirt never came back to him from the laundry. It's like a fucking spell, his stuff doesn't return back to him from the Laundry-Land. He sighs defeated, gets wrapped in one of his hoodies and walks out of his room. Tyler's room is right in front of his. He wants to knock. He wants to ask if the boy's still alive, if he's breathing. But, being a classic pussy that he is, he quietly starts to walk towards stairs.

But Tyler's door opens.

Josh freezes on the spot, even though his brain is screaming "walk away you fucking idiot".

There's a black pain(t) smeared on Tyler's cheek as he stares at Josh. He looks bad. He's wearing his plaid pajama bottoms and a ripped,white t-shirt. Has he eaten even once in the last couple of days?

"Hey." - Tyler cracks.

"Hi. Hi, man. Dude. Wassup." 

"Not much."

"Did you finish your work?"

"I haven't even started."

Josh's eyes go wide.

"What?! You've been there for days, what the hell have you been doing?"

Tyler shrugs. 

"Okay. Um. I liked your present." - Josh says. Tyler nods and licks his lips.

"I-I hate when somebody touches my brushes."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to buy me anything. That was nice of you. You are nice. A nice guy. Nice dude-"

"-Josh."

"Yes, I'll shut up now. I'm heading down for some coffee. Wanna join?"

"Okay." 

The scene in the kitchen is not what they've expected. There's a tiny box in the corner, a broken vase (Brendon's gonna kill someone), something colorful is spilled on the floor, and oh, there's Frank sobbing on the kitchen counter. Thanks God there's one thing that never changes - a burnt toast in the toaster.

Josh stands near Tyler, who's frozen in the doorframe and blinking at the scene in front of them. 

"Should we do something?" - He whispers to Tyler. Tyler shrugs, his bottom lip rolled. They stare for a little more, until Tyler speaks up.

"Let's get daddy do deal with it."

"Yeah, let's call Brendon." - Josh agrees instantly.

* * *

_*Brendon*_

He cracks his eyelids open and inhales deeply. The tiny rays of sunshine are dancing around in his room. Wait, this isn't his room. He notices the Beatles poster on the wall. The spot beside him is empty. Ryan's gone.

There's a dirty pile of clothes in the corner and Brendon knows he'll have to deal with it later,because Ryan's a messy bastard.

There's a book on the desk, which has collected dust. 

There's an empty water bottle under the chair.

There's a pink head peeking into the room.

"Hello, Bubblegum." - Brendon rasps and sits up in the bed. He decides not to ask how Josh knew he'd be in Ryan's room.

"There's an emergency in the kitchen."

"Blue code." - Tyler's peeks from just above Josh's head.

"Oh." - Brendon nods. He gets up from the bed and scratches his neck. He's going to see too many crying people in one day. "Who's weeping?"

"Iero."

"Noo. _Seriously?_ " - Frank's the tattooed guy with piercings. He can't cry. He physically can't.

"Go deal with it."

"Where's Gerard? Does he know?" - Brendon asks.

"I haven't seen him today." - Josh mumbles. 

"Fine." - Brendon sighs. "Let's go heal the broken heart."

He tries not to think about Ryan. He fails. Josh leads him to the kitchen.

Tyler stops walking suddenly and knits his brows together.

"Hey,where's Mikey?"

Nobody pays attention to him. Nothing special.


	5. My name is Shitface and I care what you think

_* Mikey *_

It all started when four high school friends decided to rent a house together. It took exactly one month for Mikey, Frank, Tyler and Brendon to find a perfect place downtown. Of course, there were too many rooms for just four of them, but the problem got solved really quickly. In only two weeks, in the middle of the night they heard a knock on the door. Mikey, being the night owl he is, wasn't asleep. He opened the door only to be met with soaked wet Gerard. It was strange to see his brother after not seeing him for five years. But the minute Gerard croaked a quiet "hey", Mikey decided he wasn't going to let him go anywhere. The noise woke Frank up and he appeared behind Mikey's back and stared at the red-haired, green-eyed, dripping wet boy in front of him. Probably, that was the moment he fell in love.

One month passed and a bubblegum-haired boy with three backpacks appeared on their porch. He said he found out about them needing a roommate from the newspaper. Tyler decided to let him have his "Art room." He says he still regrets his decision, but deep in his heart, he's actually happy about having Josh right in front of his room.

Then they met Ryan. He was Brendon's one-night-stand, who never left. He decided to occupy the biggest room in the house, and for some reason, nobody had a problem with it. He was a quiet guy, maybe that's the thing that everybody liked most about him. Especially Brendon.

_Wait a minute._

Rewind to the present time.

Mikey is standing in the record shop, Depeche Mode's vinyl resting in his hands. There's Brendon's missed call on his phone. Should he call him back?

_Nope._

* * * 

_*Ryan*_

The door shuts behind his back as he steps inside of the house. He glances at his reflection in the mirror and tries to somehow calm his crazy, messed up curls. His eyes look bloodshot and nose is red. It gives him away. Not that he cares, to be honest. He walks into the kitchen and freezes in the doorframe.

There's Josh wiping floor. Josh never wipes floors. 

Tyler's drinking coffee,staring down at Brendon and Frank, who are sitting on the floor. Or, to be more exact, Frank's sitting on the floor while Brendon's kneeling in front of him and mumbling stuff Ryan can't really hear or understand.

"What's going on?" - He asks. Slurs, actually. 

Four pairs of eyes look up at him.

"Gerard left." - Josh said.

"He cheated on Frank." - Tyler adds.

"You're home." - Brendon whispers. Ryan's brows knit together. He clears his throat and avoids Brendon's concerned eyes.

" 'M gonna head to my room."

"Wait! Josh, talk to Frank for a moment, I'll handle the floor later."

He jogs up to Ryan, who's already standing in front of the door of his room, forehead resting on the wall. Brendon's hand lands on his shoulder.

"Ryan-"

"Don't." - Ryan snaps and shrugs the boy's hand. He opens his door and steps in. Brendon follows, of course.

"Are you drunk again?" - Brendon asks quietly as he closes the door.

Ryan stays quiet. He throws his hoodie down to the floor, why the hell is it so hot in this house?! Brendon approaches him.

"Don't come closer." - Ryan hisses and shuts his eyes.

"What? Why?" - Brendon asks with a small voice.

"I-I'm drunk, yes. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"No! Hey, I just want to know what is wrong with, so I can help.." - Brendon approaches him even closer. Ryan hates it.

"Brendon,please." - He pleads.

"Ry, I don't understand-"

"I can't control myself right now!" - Ryan yells suddenly, causing Brendon to jump back. "You're-You're everywhere. And I'm drunk and-fuck-you can't just approach me like that! Not when I'm drunk and can't think straight!"

Brendon blinks, his brows furrowed. He takes one step forward and tries to touch Ryan.

"You need help-"

"I don't need your help!" - Ryan growls suddenly and pushes Brendon harshly. The boy stumbles back and stares at Ryan wide-eyed.

"You-You pushed me?" - He whispers surprised.

"Yes! And you know what?! Fuck you!" - Ryan pushes him once again, this time Brendon's back hits the wall behind him. He hisses and his face scrunches from pain. "Come on you pussy, come on hit me back! Fucking do something!"

Brendon just stares, emotions lacking on his face. This makes Ryan even more furious. He curses and, wow, lands a punch on Brendon's cheek. 

"Come on! Don't be a pussy!" - Ryan's yelling full-force now, and he's sure everybody in the house can hear him. He doesn't give a damn. "Hit me, Brendon!"

Brendon's hands are suddenly cupping his face, his body is closer than Ryan expected. He feels like he is suffocating.

"Look at me." - Brendon orders. 

Ryan doesn't obey.

"Look at me, Ryan." 

He does. His eyes meet gentle, sweet honey orbs. He's drowning.

"Please, hit me." - He lets out a quiet whisper. Fuck,he thought he would be able to hold it. Brendon shakes his head. A purple bruise has already started forming under his eye. _Sorry._

"No."

Ryan can't keep it anymore. An ugly sob escapes his lips as hangs his head low, embarassed to face the boy in front of him. He feels arms curling around him. 

"It's okay.. I'm here, it's going to be okay." - Brendon whispers.

Ryan feels like the world around him is crushing. How dramatic, oh God.

It would feel better if Brendon hit him. It really would.

He thinks he can still hear Frank's sobs. Of course, Josh's a shitty calmer. So is Tyler. But he's not ready to share Brendon with anyone, _yet._


	6. So long and good morning, Vietnam!

_*Ryan*_

His eyelids are too heavy for him to lift, but somehow he manages to crack them open. The second he lifts his head from the pillow is the second everything starts to swirl and spin around him. He's in bed. He's alone, _thanks, God._ The sun shining down right on his face, and probably that's the reason why he decides to get up from the bed. A sharp headache hits him right from the temples and, _fuck,_ he wants to die. He slowly reaches for the blanket on the other side of the bed, curls it around himself and stands up on his shaky,lanky legs. The world starts spinning faster than before. Somehow, he reaches the hallway and walks towards the kitchen slowly, leaning on the walls and stopping from time to time to adjust himself. 

In the kitchen, he finds Tyler with a piece of small paper in front of him and charcoal in his fingers. Tyler's staring down on it, without even noticing him. Good. He makes it to the fridge and opens it, grabbing a bottle of water. 

"Mornin'." - He hears Tyler's quiet voice. He turns around to face the boy, but he's still staring down at the table.

"Hi." - He croaks back. "Um-"

"What happened yesterday is what you want to ask?" 

"Yeah." - Ryan nods embaressed. 

"Well, for start-" - Tyler finally tears his gaze off the paper and turns on his chair to look at Ryan. "Gerard's gone. He and Frank had a situation and well, he's gone. Frank broke Brendon's vase. Then you came and Brendon leaded you to the bedroom. You two yelled for a minute or two. Then he came back without you and tried to calm Frank. He's asleep now. Frank, I mean. Frank's asleep. Brendon, I think he's doing laundry. I think. And you're awake. Or, maybe, you already knew that."

Tyler's art of telling stuff always surprised Ryan. But he just nodded along,even though his heart jumped at the memories of him and Brendon fighting. Plus, his knuckles are red. _Did he hit him?_

He adjusts the blanket on his shoulders and approaches the coffee machine.

"Coffee?" - For some reason he gets really polite when he's hungover. 

"Already had three."

"Have I ever told you you're amazing, Tyler?"

Tyler looks up at him and blinks.

"No?"

"Good. 'Cause you're not."

That's when Brendon walks into the kitchen with a laundry basket in his arms. He freezes when he spots Ryan and stares at him. Ryan smiles awkwardly. _Oh,there it is. A bruise. Hi, bruise. It's me, your creator._

"Did I-" - Ryan points towards his cheek.

"Yes." 

"Oh."

_I'm sorry_

"It's okay tho, doesn't hurt."

"Okay. Good."

Brendon's still frozen in the middle of the room with a dirty pile of laundry, while Ryan's standing in his boxers and blanket wrapped around himself. _What a sight._

"I am really sorry for being shithead yesterday. I don't remember much, but still." - He mumbles.

"It's okay, Ryan." - Brendon shrugs his shoulder. "We all have those times. I get it."

"What times?"

"Okay. Let me get my artsy ass out of here, I really don't want to end up watching you two shagging each-other on the kitchen counter." - Tyler says suddenly.

"When did you get here?!" - Brendon yells and nearly drops the basket. "And we-what the hall are you talking about?"

"I've been here for the whole night." - He puts a hand on Brendon's shoulder and whispers something into his ear, Ryan only gets _"remember I spent a week under your bed listening to your moans._

* * * 

_* Josh *_

Josh's sitting in the living room, eating popcorn and staring at TV. Watching news in the morning is not the best thing a young man can do, especially on Saturdays. But he's okay, as long as he has popcorn on in his lap.

Somebody flops down on the couch beside him. He turns his head and is met with fluffy, brown hair, pointy nose and confused expression.

"Are you watching news? what the hell, Joshua?" - Tyler asks.

"Hey, I was having a good time here." - Josh mumbles.

"Whatever."

They sit in complete silence, the only noise being some man's monotone voice talking about the "horrible situation on Wall Street." 

"Wanna watch 'Rick and Morty'?" - Tyler suggests suddenly.

"God, yes." 

* * *

_* Frank *_

There's a pin laying on the bottom of the toilet. He stares down at it. Then he looks up to look into the mirror. Oh, wow.

He looks.. Messy. Yeah, that's a nice words to describe him. No wonder Gee no longer wanted him. 

Gee, fuck. 

Gee and his stupid, crazy red hair. 

His amazing green eyes and that annoyingly pretty smile. 

Gee and his loud laugh. 

Gee and his morning spooning. 

Gee and his soft touch. 

Gee and his cute voice.

Frank stares down at the pin.

Frank flushes the toilet.


	7. I can feel your breath, I can feel my boner

_* Tyler *_

It always seemed so fascinating to him. How can somebody walk out of the shower and not dry their body completely? How can somebody put a shirt while being wet? How the fuck can somebody walk around in a damp shirt without getting sick? Josh does all of these things. He's probably surprised because his own immune system is shit. He gets sick by even thinking about cold. Even right now he feels shivers running down his spine.

"Tyler, are you even listening to me?" - The professor looks up at the boy from his glasses. Tyler nods as he feels a few annoyed pairs of eyes staring at him. 

"Like I was saying.. Mr. Walker will be visiting us next week. As you may know, James-Nicholas Walker is one of the greatest painters of our time. And I am proud to call myself his professor. He will spend the whole week with us, criticizing your art skills and giving you very important advices. I hope you won't disappoint me. So, due next Monday, you have to create a piece of art that will capture your whole existence. You have to create the best painting you've ever made."

Tyler rolls his eyes. Of course he knows who Walker is. A stupid, talentless piece of garbage that gets an unbelievable amount of money for doing nothing. His colors are dull, skills - basic. But Tyler is not the one to judge - he hasn't drawn a normal painting in years.

He still thinks about Walker when he gets home and locks up in his room. _Paint the best piece of art_. How is that possible? The best piece for Tyler is always the one he is currently working on. How can he fit his soul in just one painting? 

He sits down on the floor in front of his easel and stares. 

What should he use? Watercolor? No, too bright. Acrylic? Nope, too easy. Oil? Nah, he doesn't own the oil paints. 

Tyler sighs and runs a hand over his face. He's stuck. Again. He's been stuck for months now. He can't force himself to draw something worthy. Everything he creates is shit and ends up in a trash can. Frustrated at himself, he gets up from the floor and decides to get a cup of coffee.

He leaves his room and gets down to the kitchen. He starts rummaging in the cupboards, looking for his mug. He has two mugs - for drinking and for painting. And yes, he has sipped painting water instead of coffee way too many times now. 

There's pink head turning at him.

"Hey." - Josh waves. 

Tyler blinks at him and goes back to rummaging, louder this time.

"What are you looking for?" - Josh asks curiously. 

"My mug."

"Oh. Which one?"

"It literally says _"Tyler's mug"_."

"Um. This one?" 

Tyler looks at him. Josh lifts a mug he's holding. _His mug_. Tyler's brows knit together as he approaches Josh.

"Sorry. All the other ones were dirty, Brendon forgot to wash dishes this morning so I thought maybe I-"

Tyler grabs the mug from Josh's hand and stares down.

"Were you drinking milked-coffee from it?" - He asks with a quiet voice.

"Yeah."

"Now it's gonna taste like milk forever. I hate milk."

"Oh. Sorry. I'll get you a new one?" 

Tyler sighs and shakes his head.

"It's fine. It's whatever. Good thing you didn't drink from another mug." 

He hands the mug back to Josh and turns around.

"Which one is another one?"

"It says _Tyler's another mug_ "

"I drank from that yesterday." - Josh admits embarassed. "Tasted kinda strange, to be honest."

"Of course it did."

Tyler decided to get back to his room and start painting already. He stops in the doorframe to look back one more time.

Josh's biting down his lip anxiously. There's a tiny ray of sunshine crawling up Josh's cheek while he's staring down at his fingers, his cheeks slightly red. Tyler can count his freckles even from this distance. One of his pink curls is falling down on his face, creating a small shadow over the boy's eyes. His gaze is concentrated on his fingers, like it's the most important things in the universe. 

There is something fascinating about him.

Tyler gasps suddenly.

Josh looks up surprised, brows raised.

"Tyler?"

But Tyler can't hear him anymore. He is bolting out from the kitchen. He's jumping over the stairs, literally flying to his room. He falls down on his knees and grabs a piece of charcoal from the floor.

He hears Josh's footsteps stopping in front of the door but he doesn't care. He can't care.

Because he's painting. With trembling hands and an awfully small piece of charcoal. He's painting. He's painting messy curls, freckled cheeks and chapped lips. He's painting kind eyes and a shy smile. He's painting-

"Me." - Josh breathes from where he's frozen. Tyler doesn't respond, he doesn't even nod. 

He continues to paint for almost three hours. And for the three hours, Josh is glued to the spot behind Tyler's back, his eyes staring at the paper and what Tyler is creating.

Until, finally, an almost non-existing,tiny charcoal falls down from Tyler's hands. He's staring at what he has painted, breathing heavily. He's staring, staring, staring. He feels somebody's weight falling down next to him. He hears somebody's shaky breathing.

"It's-I-Fuck." - Josh manages to crack and looks at Tyler, who's still trying to catch his breath. "Tyler, it's beautiful."

But Tyler feels like something's missing. He looks down at his fingers that have turned black from the charcoal. Then he slowly lifts his hand and touches the painting gently. The amount of charcoal on his hands lets him draw with his fingers. He adds the final touch and drops his hand. There. _Crinkles by his eyes_.

"It's me. You've painted me." - Josh's voice is still full of shock.

"I did." - Tyler rasps, being in shock himself. _Why did he draw Josh?_

Something happens then. Suddenly, he feels arms curling around his this frame. Tyler hasn't been hugged once for almost five years.

"Thank you, Tyler." - He feels a hot breath on his neck.

Tyler shakes his head and, probably for the first time in weeks, smiles at the painting in front of him. He puts his hands on Josh's back, knowing the boy won't care about his shirt getting colored from his touch.

"No, Jishwa. Thank _you_."


	8. Potato/Kartoffel

_*Ryan*_

He's sitting next to Frank, who's holding a tissue in his hands and is sniffling loudly. He's staring at the floor, while tears are running down his face. It's strange, to be honest, how Ryan ended up in this situation. All he did was just sit down on the couch to watch some TV,and now he's trapped in this melancholic,depressing flow of events.

His hand is resting on Frank's back sympathetically, or at least he thinks so. He doesn't know how to comfort a crying,sad person. Nobody has ever comforted him and he has no experience at all. 

So there he is, patting his fingers on the boy's back and stuttering like a two-years-old.

"It's gonna be okay.. It really sucks,yeah but you'll survive. I mean, you know, there's plenty fish in the sea and stuff.. Plus, you're a hot guy. I mean, you'll find someone."

Frank's sobbing just gets louder and now Ryan's not so sure about him helping the boy. He hears quick footsteps approaching them from behind. 

Brendon sits down on the couch beside them, looks at Frank and sighs. His gaze then crawls up at Ryan, who still has a hand on Frank's shaking back.

"The hell you're doing?" - Brendon mouths. Ryan rolls his eyes and finally lets his hand drop. 

Brendon shifts closer to Frank.

"Hey, buddy." - He whispers gently. "How about we take you to bed? You must be exhausted. I'll even prepare my special-reciepe hot chocolate for you. What do you say?"

Frank whispers shakily and nods.

"Okay." - Brendon smiles. "Go upstairs and wait for me and hot chocolate."

In a moment, Frank disappears from the room and Ryan is left alone with the hero of their house.

"Good job. You might think about becoming a therapist,you know. I've heard they get a lot of money." - Ryan mumbles.

Brendon scoffs and shakes his head.

"You'd be my first patient, Ross."

"Oh, really? And what would you cure me from?"

"Well, let me think." - Brendon smirks and crosses his arms on his chest.

"Alcoholism. Social anxiety. Oh, and PTSD."

Ryan blinks. He doesn't really get what's going on. Brendon has always been bitchy with him, yeah, but right now - there's something else. It's like he's trying to hurt Ryan. _He doesn't like it._

"PTSD?"

"Yup. I mean, have you seen yourself? I'm kinda sure something horrible must have happened with you as a child, there must be something that explains you being such a dick."

Ryan stares at the boy in front of him. 

"Have you finished?" - He manages to ask.

"Yes, I think."

"Okay."

Ryan gets up from the couch and walks up the stairs to his room, his hands clenched in fists. He's trying too hard not to punch something. _Or someone,again._

* * * 

_*Brendon*_

He literally flies into the kitchen, frustrated at himself in the first place, and of course at Ryan. He grabs the mug from the cupboard and smashes it on the table loudly. That's when he spots wide-eyed Tyler staring at him from the other side of the kitchen. 

"You're such a creep, for fuck's sake. How are you so quiet all the time?!" - Brendon growls.

"You made me drop my toast." - Tyler states. Brendon notices a poor toast lying near the boy's legs.

"Whatever. We have plenty of bread. If you're lucky enough, you'll even find a fucking burnt piece in the toaster."

Tyler's face scrunches in disgust. Seems like everybody in this house hates burnt toasts. So who the fuck leaves them in the toaster?!

"What's up with your mood?" - Tyler asks, obviously not interested, but Brendon can't let go a chance of shit-talking about Ryan Ross.

"How dares he-I mean, first he comes to me pissed drunk, begging to fuck him. Then he tells me something important, then he fucking punches me and then?! Behaves like nothing happened?! I mean what am I?! His fuck-toy?!" - Brendon yells while preparing a hot chocolate. _Where the hell did cacao go?!_

"You think about him a lot, don't you?" - Tyler asks.

"Of course I do! I'm not like him, I can't fuck and then forget! I'm not a slut! _Jesus,_ where's the fucking cacao?!"

"On the right shelf." - Tyler points. "So, you love him?"

"Yeah, so?! I mean, that doesn't give him the right to-" - Brendon cuts himself off and a spoon he's been holding drops down on the floor with a loud noise. 

Wait a minute.

_Wait a minute._

His eyes go wide and he clasps a hand over his mouth. _How does he bring back the words he's said to his mouth?_

He looks at Tyler, scared and terrified. 

Tyler smirks and leaves the kitchen.


	9. Ruby, take my dick

_*Frank*_

He's been sitting on couch, squeezed between Ryan and Brendon, who pretend to be watching TV and ignore each-other's guts. Brendon's pretentious, furious inhales and and Ryan's ironic smirks thrown towards the other boy are really tiring him out. He thought about going back to his room, but the thing is - he just got out of the bed. And it's 7 p.m. So no, he had to sit in the living room for a little time to remind everyone that he's still alive and breathing.

"Frank, could you give me the remote,please?" - Brendon asks suddenly. Frank glances towards the remote, that's lying on the Ryan's lap.

"Um, I don't think-"

"Actually, I am watching this. So no, Frank cannot give _you_ the remote." - Ryan hisses, eyes still glued on the screen in front of him. 

Brendon scoffs and raises his eyebrows.

"Oh, excuse me? since when do you own the TV?"

"Since I fucking turned it on this morning."

"Well, my brains have already gone rotten from your stupid tv-shows." - Brendon snaps. "Give me the fucking remote."

"Get it yourself,big guy."

That's it. Franks knew it was coming.

The next thing he sees is Brendon's leg pushing Ryan's torso down on the couch, while his hands are fighting with Ryan for the remote.

_"Get off me!"_

"Give me the remote!"

"No!! Get away!"

"Give it to me, you son of a bitch!"

Frank inhales sharply.

The remote drops from Ryan's hand suddenly, hitting the floor with a loud noise. Brendon freezes. Ryan manages to wiggle from his hold and get up from the couch.

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair.

"Ryan, I-"

"You could have thought of something more original, you know,instead of just stating a fact that my mother is a bitch." - Ryan mumbles. 

Guilt fills up Brendon's eyes.

"I didn't mean it,-"

"Whatever. Remote's yours now." 

In a second, Ryan's gone from the living room. Frank's still sitting there, shocked from the scene. It's like a reality-show, but in real life. Somebody should film their house 24/7, that shit's gonna be better that Kardashinas for sure. 

Somebody knocks on the door. Frank glances at Brendon, who's staring down at the floor, regret written all over is face. He sighs and crawls up from the couch. He spends almost five minutes looking for his slippers and finally finds them under the table.

Frank opens the front door lazily. And, boom, _he can't breath_.

"Seriously, out of all the people living in this house _you_ had to be the one opening the door right now?"

There's a mess of bright red hair. There's a pair of sad, green eyes.

Frank opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, his own vocal chord betray him. _How surprising._

"I'd like to come in into my house, you know.."

"Right. Yeah. Sure."- Frank steps aside and lets Gerard walk in. He closes the door and turns around quickly to continue staring at the boy. Gerard drops the backpack he's been holding on the floor and sighs.

"Everybody's at home?" - He asks with a quiet voice.

Frank stares at him.

Gerard turns around to face Frank.

"Frank?"

"Why are you here?" - He manages to crack.

"I live here?" - Gerard answers, confused and surprised.

"You cheated on me."

The silence falls down on them. Gerard looks down to the floor and scratches his neck.

"Techincally, I said _I think_ I've cheated on you."

"I don't give a shit."

Gerard flinches from surprise. Frank never curses. 

"I don't give a shit what you think you did." - Frank spits and shakes his head. "I just don't understand why the fuck are you back. You've been gone for almost a week. Yes, you do live here, but you live here with me. And I am not going to spend the night with you in one room."

"Frank-"

"Mikey's room will be glad to welcome you back. Collect your shit and fuck off to your brother's room." - With these words, Frank pushes past Gerard and returns to his sit on the couch, hoping that the red-head won't follow.

He doesn't.

* * *

_*Josh*_

Tyler's been staring at Josh for almost an hour now. He's sitting on the chair, sipping his coffee and glancing at Tyler occasionally, obviously embarassed because of the boy's gaze swirling holes on him. And that doesn't stop Tyler, being a creep that he is.

That's until Josh finally places a drink on the table and his eyes snap up at Tyler.

"Look, I-I've tried not to say anything but it's kinda creeping me out, so if there's something you wanna tell me or-"

"Hush."

Josh's eyes go wide.

"What?"

"Just shut up, will ya?"

"But-You're staring." - Josh blinks.

"Of course I am. You're my muse, so I'm staring at you, duh." - Tyler rolls his eyes like it's the most obvious thing ever.

"I-I'm your m-muse?" - Josh stutters.

"Yes, Josh."

"Oh. Oh, wow. Thank you, I guess."

"Can I kiss you?"

Josh jumps from his seat (he doesn't really know why) and gasps.

Tyler blinks at him, waiting for a response.

"Yes. Yes, please." - Josh breathes and nods finally.

And then, suddenly, Tyler's everywhere.

His lips are sucking Josh's bitten ones, his hands are running through his pink curls, his tongue is pushing itself further into the boy's mouth and _Jesus,_ something's alive in Josh's pants. He swallows a quiet moan and lifts his hands to put them on Tyler's back, but Tyler's lips are gone in a second. Josh opens his eyes, already feeling hunger for the boy's plump lips.

Tyler's wiping his mouth with a serious face.

"Yeah, they definetly taste crisper-red with a hint of orange." - He's mumbling to himself.

"What?!"

"Thank you."

And then he's gone, leaving Josh glued to the spot. Again. 


	10. Promise me a place in house of morning boners

_* Mikey *_

There's nothing more satisfying then starting the morning with a cup of just-rightly-sugared coffee and a croissant from the bakery down the street. Even though Mikey has to start his morning with a cup of old orange juice, he pretends it's coffee and smiles to himself. But, reality hits hard when he hears footsteps behind his back. He remembers that he's not in his own apartment somewhere on Manhattan, but lives in this shit hole with tons of stupid bastards.

"We're out of juice?" - He hears his brother's voice.

"Yeah, just having the last- _Wait a minute._ " - He turns around quickly and faces his brother, who's staring at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here, why does everyone keep asking me that?" 

"You've been gone for days, Gerard." - Mikey states the fact.

"Yeah, well, a man can have some days off, can't he?"

"You're a dick." 

"Yeah." - Gerard sighs and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He won't even look at me."

"Where did you sleep last night?"

"He kicked me out of our room. And I didn't want to wake you up so I've occupied the couch. But then Josh sat down on me this morning, so it's not the most comfortable place ever. Hope you'll be okay with me moving back to yours."

Oh,no.

Mikey already starred getting used to having the room all to himself. 

"Yeah,sure."

Damn it.

"He kissed me." - A pink hair pops into the kitchen with wide eyes and scared expression. "He just-He kissed me!"

Mikey sips his juice and then places the cup on the counter. He crosses his arms on the chest and stares at Josh.

"Who? Ryan? Brendon? Me? Ty-"

"Tyler."

"Hm." - Mikey nods. "Okay. And?"

"He walked away then! He just-He went to his room and locked up."

"It's a tradition in this house - kissing and then forgetting." - Brendon chimes in, holding a magazine in his hands meaning he spent the half of the morning in loo.

"Ryan?"

"How did you guess?" - Brendon gasps.

"Please. You've been up Ryan's ass sfor as long as I can remember." - Mikey mumbles.

"You knew?!" - Brendon screeches. 

Mikey nods.

"You too?" - He looks at Gerard and Josh. "Oh, welcome back, by the way."

"Yeah,we did."

"Oh, fuck me!" - Brendon smacks a hand over his forehead (which isn't really a small forehead) and growls. "I need to talk to him."

* * * 

_* Ryan *_

He's laying on the bed, facing a wall. Feels like a cliche moment from some cheesy, teenage drama, but he doesn't really give a damn. The headache is killing him, he wants to curl up on himself and disappear, no longer exist. There's a tiny ray of sun crawling into the room and Ryan wants to kick its ass. But, unfortunately,it doesn't have an ass, it's just a ray of light. 

The door to his room opens and he wants to groan from annoyance. 

The weight drips down his bed and he just moves further from the edge. It's too early to face anyone. 

The throat is cleared behind him. So they are going to talk, nice. Wonderful. Ryan mentally rolls his eyes.

"Um, Ryan?" 

Ryan's little prototype inside of his head screams _Nooo_ with a full force. 

"Are you asleep?"

Ryan sighs and turns on his side to finally face his guest.

"Hey. Hi, you're not." - Brendon smiles. "I just-I wanted to, you know, apologize. For being such a dick. It was lo low of me. You don't deserve it. I truly regret it, I didn't mean to-"

"Shut uuup." - Ryan whines and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Oh." - Brendon blinks. "Okay, um, yeah. Sorry. Just wanted to apologize. I'll go now."

He stands up, the weigh and heat disappearing from Ryan's bed. He hearts footsteps approaching the door. 

Something awakens in him. Anxiety. He's scared. 

No,no. Brendon can't leave. This is wrong.

"Brendon!"

Brendon freezes in the doorframe.

Ryan's eyes are still shut.

"Please, don't leave me." - He breathes, doubting the words would even reach the boy. But they do, because in a second, Brendon appears beside him on the bed, his arms capturing around Ryan's chest. 

There are tears gathering up in his eyes, but he just keeps them closed to they don't escape. He turns around,buries himself in Brendon's warm chest and inhales his scent.

This morning will be okay, eventually.


	11. Turn away, 'cause I'm ugly just to see

_* Tyler *_

The sun is shining just perfectly,sending little pretty rays on his easel. He's sitting legs-crossed on the floor, eyes glued on the painting in front of him. It's finished. It's finally done. He's been coloring it for the last couple of days, trying to perfectly pick the colors, and he succeeded. He dragged from the cigarette resting between his fingers and closed his eyes. Brendon would probably kill him if he knew somebody's smoking in bedrooms. But he needs his dose of being a bad boy sometimes. 

There's a knock on his door. 

His eyelids disconnect. He lazily crawls up to his feet and opens the door. It reveals wide-eyed Josh, who's biting his lip anxiously and staring at Tyler.

"Can I come in?" - He blurts. 

Tyler opens the door wider and steps aside, letting Josh walk in. He shuts the door then and turns around on his heel to face the boy.

"I wanted to talk about, you know, what-what you did earlier-"

"You mean when I ate your chocolate cookies?"

"What? No, no, Tyler. When you-"

"When I kissed you?"

Josh swallows hardly and nods.

"Yeah, okay. And?" - Tyler asks, rising his eyebrow.

"And?" - Josh repeats surprised. "Look, I don't know how you look at things but for me the kiss means something-something big and-"

"Josh." - Tyler cuts him off. "Josh, it's just a kiss. A type of physical contact. A touch."

"We shared saliva." - Josh states.

"We did. But it doesn't mean you have to spend the rest of your life thinking about it."

"So it didn't mean anything to you?" - Josh asks sadly..

Tyler stares at him. He stares at his tiny freckles messily splattered all over his cheeks and nose. He stares at his hazel eyes full of worry and anxiety. He stares at his bitten raw lips.

"Well. You could say it means that I like you." - He admits. More to himself, than to Josh.

Josh opens his mouth to say something, but nothing but a quiet gasp comes out. Tyler chuckles and shakes his head. He nears the boy and lays a hand on his cheek. Josh visually stiffens under his touch.

"Relax." - Tyler says. "It's okay. It doesn't mean anything. I just like the way you look. And the way you talk. I just like the way you are. It's-"

"I like you,too." - Josh says quickly. "So, so fucking much."

Tyler blinks. Then smiles and sends shivers down Josh's spine.

"That's good, Pink-Boy."

Josh unconsciously lifts his hand to touch his curls. His cheeks redden. His eyes glance at the painting behind Tyler's back.

"Oh-It's finished!"

"Yeah." - Tyler nods and his hand finally leaves Josh's cheek. He drags once again and inhales the poisinous smoke away from Josh. 

"Wow. It's beautiful, Ty." - Josh breathes,eyes still glued on the painting.

Tyler stares at the boy in front of him and smirks. He painted Josh.

"Of course, it is."

 

* * *

_* Ryan *_

He wakes up feeling the weight pressed on his chest. He feels like he can't breath. He wants to escape, to run away. He tries to wiggle from the hold, but it only gets stronger. He finally lifts his eyes and that's when he realizes. 

_Brendon._

It's Brendon and his strong arms captured around Ryan's body. Brendon and his naked torso. Brendon and his colorful tattoos. Brendon and his raven locks falling down his face.

Ryan gulps and sits up. Brendon opens his eyes instantly and looks up at him.

"Hey." - He whispers. He unwraps himself from Ryan and clears his throat. "Sorry, I guess I fell asleep here. Um, how are you?"

"Fine." - Ryan rasps.

"Sure? I mean, I still kinda feel shitty for-"

"You better leave, Brendon." - Ryan says, eyes not daring to meet Brendon's frowning face. 

"What? Why?"

"Please." - Ryan whispers.

"You want me to leave?" - Brendon asks quietly.

"Yes. I can't-It's not right. I'm not right for this, for you." - Ryan rambles. 

Brendon stares at him, confusion written all over his face.

"Ryan, I don't need you to be right for anything."

"Just, don't. Please. You need to leave. Or don't. I'll leave. I need to take a shower." - Ryan finally crawls out of the bed and stumbles towards the door.

"You're such a cowards, Ryan Ross." - Brendon hisses suddenly, causing him to freeze on the spot.

"What?" - He asks, eyes going wide.

"You're a pussy." - Brendon spits, getting out of the bed and approaching him. "You're scared, so fucking scared. Look at you. You're a pussy."

"Stop.."

"No. You stop. Stop being afraid of your feelings." - Brendon's voice softens. "Stop being afraid of me. Ryan, I don't want you to be right, or good or perfect. I don't need you to be anything at all."

Ryan stares at him, at the way his long lashes barely touch his cheeks, the way his plump lips curls down a little, the way his honey-colored eyes stare right into his soul. And he can't. _He can't._

"I've seen people getting together and ruining each other. I've seen the love getting destroyed and stepped on. I've seen hearts getting broken and souls being shattered." - Ryan grits. "And I can't let that happen to you. I'm sorry."

Brendon opens his mouth to say something, but Ryan's already disappeared into the hallway.

So he stands there, frozen on the spot with a storm on his brain. When did his life become a sappy episode of "Vampire Diaries"? His vision concentrates on something strange. He blinks the blur away.

"Mikey, why the fuck are you walking around the house naked?" - He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Mikey sips coffee from his mug and shrugs.

"Whatever." - Brendon stumbles out from Ryan's bedroom and walks towards his door. He steps in and shuts it behind his back. He can still hear the voices coming from the hallway.

_"What the-Mikey Way, not again!! Put something on!"_

_"Fuck off, Gerard, I've seen you putting your dick in the jar of dad's paint."_

_"What?!"_ \- Tyler shrieks. Wait, how long has he been there?

_"I was ten!!"_

Brendon sighs and flops on the bed with his face down.

_"From now on, don't you dare to approach my paints ever again."_

_"Tyler, I was fucking ten!"_

_"I don't fucking care!"_

_"What's going on?"_ " - He hears Frank's voice.

_"Mikey's walking-"_

_"I didn't ask you, Gerard Arthur Way."_

_"Jesus, quiet being such a drama queen, Frank!"_

"What a beautiful start of the day." - Brendon mumbles into the pillow.

Once again,Ryan uses all the water.


	12. That green genitalia

_* Ryan *_

He tosses the (fucking) burnt toast into the trash can and curses quietly. One day, he's gonna catch the bastard, who is leaving that shit in the toaster and that day is going to be the day he shoves up Tyler's easel up someone's ass. He has to admit, he always had the thought it was Josh, but yesterday Josh was the one who threw away the burnt piece of poor bread. So no, not Josh.

He starts preparing himself breakfast thinking about how he's going to hide from Brendon for the whole day. Not that he's afraid to face him. No, of course no. Huh, _please._

He's not scared. Maybe that's why he drops his egg and bents down under the counter when he hears Brendon's footsteps approaching the kitchen. _How the fuck did he even recognize his footsteps?!_

Brendon's humming a strange melody as he nears the fridge and opens the door, glancing at products. His eyes wonder to the upper shelves,and then suddenly they stop on Ryan's face, who's crouching and trying to disappear or become invisible.

"You're under the counter." - Brendon mumbles, fingers still gripping the fridge door.

Ryan clears his throat and crawls up to his feet.

"Yeah, I-I dropped.." - He spots a cracked egg on the floor. "An egg!"

"An egg?" - Brendon blinks.

"Yes." - Ryan picks up the pieces of an egg shell with his fingers (ew) and puts them down on his plate. "Yes, my egg."

"Okay." - Brendon nods, pieces of his raven-hair fall down on his eyes and Ryan wants to stroke them away. _Friendly._

Ryan turns his back on the boy and looks down at the plate. His nose scrunches from disgust.

"Look-" - Brendon starts.

"You want some eggs?" - Ryan cuts him off. Brendon's gaze falls at Ryan's plate. 

"Um, no. Thanks. You can have your cracked, raw eggs for yourself."

"I'd cook them for you." - Ryan mumbles. "Whatever."

Brendon sighs. Oh, he's gonna speak again.

"Ryan,-"

"Maybe you want some juice?"

"No, for fuck's sake!" - Brendon raises his voice suddenly. "Can you just fucking shut up and let me talk?!"

Ryan gulps and stares into dark eyes in front of him.

"Ryan fucking Ross." - Brendon starts again, pointing his finger at him. "You are the most stubborn, annoying, irritating person in the world. You have no brains inside of that curly head of yours. It's fucking empty! You-You're toying around with me. Playing with me like I'm a stupid thirteen-year-old. And you know what's worse? It makes me want you even more!"

Brendon's yelling now, his vice echoing in the full house.

"You're scared. I get it, okay? I am scared, too. And what you said - about love breaking people's lives - it's not right. It's fucking not. I know, you've seen a lot of shit as you were a kid, but for fuck's sake, the world is not as shitty as you think."

Ryan can feel his knees are shaking underneath him.

Brendon approaches him, his hands land on Ryan's shoulders. He feels small under his touch.

"I am here for you. Have been for the last two years, you idiot." - Brendon shakes his head. "And I know you're going through some shit, but I'm-I'm here, yeah? Whenever you're ready. I am here."

Ryan stares. He stares and he can hear a white noise in his mind. He wants to say something - but fails. 

So he follows his pride and falls. Falls right into Brendon's chest, his arms locking behind, on the boy's back. He inhales Brendon's minty smell and buries his nose in his chest. He feels strong arms wrapping around his torso and you know what? He feels safe. For the first time, since that day, 10 years ago when his father opened the door to his room for the first time. He feels safe.

"I was scared you'd run away again." - Brendon chuckles quietly.

"I was planning to." - Ryan answers, his voice muffled.

"I thought he'd run away, too."

Brendon shrieks and turns away, still holding Ryan near his chest.

_"What the fuck are you doing here?!!"_

"Drinking coffee?" - Tyler shrugs.

"You've been here all this time? You know what - no, don't answer that." 

Tyler shrugs once again and sips his coffee, getting back to what he's been doing for the whole morning until the couple distracted him - staring out of the window.

"We need to get him a necklace with a bell or something." - Brendon mumbles.

* * *

_* Gerard *_

He shuffles from one feet to another. He scratches his neck. He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. He's so fucking nervous.

He's standing in front of Frank's (and his) room. He's going to knock now, okay?

Or maybe not. Maybe he should wait. Or maybe he should-

"Gerard?"

Oh, dang it. He turns around in a second with his eyes wide. Frank's standing right in front of him, lips parted and brows raised from surprise. So, he wasn't in his room. Gerard should have probably checked that before.

"Um-"

"What are you doing here?" - Frank asks, crossing his arms on the chest. Gerard glances at the tattoos his t-shit reveals. _God, he misses sucking the skin-_ "Gerard!"

"I wanted to talk." - Gerard snaps out of his fantasies.

"I don't have anything to talk about, Move, I need to get into my room." - Frank orders and tried to push past him.

"I didn't sleep with him." - He breathes.

Frank freezes, his breath hitches.

"I-I called him. It didn't happen. I haven't cheated on you."

Frank's still frozen. He's not happy. There's no sign of relief on his face.

"Say something." - Gerard whispers. Pleads, even.

"Should I thank you for not putting your dick in someone else's ass?" - Frank asks, still not meeting his eyes.

"No, I just-I thought you could-"

"What? Forgive you?" - Frank shakes his head. "Look. I'm glad you didn't fuck someone else. But I can't forgive you.. I would never give myself even a slightest chance to have anything with anyone, other than you."

"I was drunk-"

"And you'll be drunk again. It means you would have a potetional sex-"

"No, no. Damn it!" - Gerard suddenly grabs Frank's hand. Frank doesn't flinch away from him, _thanks God._ "I love you, okay? I love you, Frank Iero. And I don't need anyone else but you. Not now, not ever. You are my soulmate, I need you to be with me. Please, just give me one more chance and I promise I'll prove-"

Frank shuts him up by capturing his lips for a second. He pulls away quickly and Gerard leans it, because it's not enough. he missed it.

"Not here." - Frank breathes and touches the doorknob. "Come inside and fuck my brains out, Gerard Way. I beg you."

Gerard gasps quietly, his heart starts hammering in his chest.

Gerard does exactly what Frank begged him to do. Josh in the next room can approve. He also realizes the walls are too thin in this house.


	13. So I'm taking my time on my fuck

_* Tyler *_

Tyler's running, cold wind crushing into his bones and sending shivers down his spine. He's running, life his life depends on it because, in some kind of way, it really does. His legs are aching, his head is pounding. But he's running. He's running home. 

Why is he running? Well. Here's a story for you.

_rewind the tape_

It's a nice, sunny day. Tyler walks into the auditorium and examines the walls. Paintings are hung all over the walls. He recognizes the artworks of his classmates (because they all lack some creativity and literally draw the same thing always). He spots his drawing, hung proudly right in the middle of the wall. He meets the painted pair of eyes, crinkles by the nose and tiny freckles. He smirks to himself because damn, he did really good. 

He flops down on the chair and waits for the professor and some stupid,famous painter his university invited over for a lecture. Each of the students had to choose one painting of their own and hang it on the wall for the guy to check and criticize. _Who the hell does he think he is?_ After some time, the auditorium is full and the professor and a guest finally walk in. Tyler can hear quiet gasps behind his back, tiny "oh my God"-s and even a fucking whistle. People love stupid,famous people. He rolls his eyes and leans back on his chair.

The first hour of the lecture is boring. It feels like he's watching some kind of a documentary movie in 3D. The guy's been talking about himself and his life for too long now. _Nobody cares, dude. You're just a douche who found the great PR manager and clients stupid enough to buy your shit._

Loud applauds snap him out of his thoughts. He realizes the historical, self-promoting part of the lecture is over.

"Mr. Walker, we'd like you to see some of the works out students submitted last week." - His professor says through his stupid grin. Tyler's sure he's ready to lick the ass crack of this prick. The painter nods and approaches the wall full of artwork. Once again, the place fills up with whispers, nervous laughter and shuffling. Everyone, except Tyler, gathers around Mr. Walker and stare at him in awe, like he's some Moses.

"Hm." - The painter hums. "Let's see. Which one of you is.. J. Black?"

The blonde girl shrieks and steps forward, her cheeks getting red. She lifts her hand shakily.

"Oh, I see." - Walker nods. "Let me say one thing. Miss Black.. In your artwork, colors you've chosen are cliche and the idea is absent.." - The guy mumbled.

Tyler could see the girl's eyes getting wide, her shoulders dropping. God, he wants to strangle this bastard.

"Next time you draw - let it come from your heart, not from your hands. Deal?" - The guy smiles. 

The girl nods and steps back, avoiding the painters gaze. 

"Let's see what's next.. P. Wentz?"

Tyler can't hold a laugh escaping his lungs. Pete Wentz submitted the painting? Don't get him wrong, Pete's a great guy. But he's one piece of a lazy ass. He has never drawn anything for the classes.

"It's me." - Pete rasps.

"Very interesting." - Walker mumbles. "Mr. Wentz, can you tell us what did you draw?"

"It's a monkey." - Pete shrugs. Tyler barks another laugh, but Jenna hushes him annoyed. 

"A monkey?" - The painter smiles. "This is something new. Why did you decide to draw a monkey?"

" 'Cause I saw it on TV." - Pete scratches his neck.

"Oh. Okay. Well-Next time you draw, choose something that will have meaning to you. Because a monkey-"

"Who the hell are you to tell us what to draw?" - Tyler suddenly bursts. He's had enough with this asshole.

"Excuse me?" - The man adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose and stares at Tyler, who's sitting on the chair in the furthest corner.

"I've asked-" - Tyler gets up and approaches the man, arms crosses on his chest. "Who are you to tell Pete, or anyone else how to draw?"

"Joseph, please think before talking!" - His professor hisses, be he can't care less.

The man lifts his eyebrows and smirks.

"Mr. Joseph, if I heard your name right, can you show me the work you've submitted?" - He asks in a voice full of irony.

"Right there." - Tyler points. "Go on. Tell me what to draw next time, I really care about an opinion of a man named after a walking tool for disabled people."

Somebody gasps behind his back. It's probably Jenna. Walker ignores Tyler's comment and approaches his drawing. He spends exactly seven minutes staring at it, examining every detail, every God damn freckle Tyler has drawn on _that_ face.

Finally, Walker lifts his gaze at him and starts talking.

"Mr. T. Joseph. Can you tell me your name?"

"Tina." - Tyler answers.

Somebody gasps again behind his back. That somebody need to carry a fucking inhaler with them.

"Well.." - The man clears his throat and stares at Tyler, his eyes softer then before. It scares Tyler. "I can't tell you anything about the drawing, Mr. Joseph. You know why? Because you're in love with it."

Tyler chokes on his saliva and breaks into the fist of coughs.

"What the hell does that mean?!" - He asks when he finally steadies himself.

"You are in love with a painting. Or, you could say, with a person who you've drawn. Trust me, I can see it. In the traces left by your brush, in the colors. I can sense love."

Tyler stares at the man in front of him. Then he looks around his classmates, who are watching him with their eyes wide. Then he meets his professor's surprised expression.

Then he runs out from the auditorium.

_fast forward_

Tyler's running. His feet are hurting, his mind is numb.

He finally sees his (their) house on the horizon. In a few huge steps he flies into the house (the door was open, which means Brendon will kill someone. He hates opened doors). He runs upstairs, ignoring Gerard's shocked gaze from the kitchen. 

He's banging on Josh's door with a all the force that he has left. His breathing is loud and messy, he nearly chokes. But he bangs, and bangs until the door reveals scared Josh. His pink curls are sticking out in seventy different directions. 

"What the hell-Tyler,what's going on?!" - He yells.

Tyler stares at him, trying to catch his breath.

"You-You-fucking-You-" - He tried to steady himself.

"Wow, calm down, were you running?" - Josh's voice is full of concern. "What happened?"

"You prick!" - Tyler finally manages to shout. Josh takes a step back and narrows his eyes.

"What?"

"You're a prick. You-How could you?!"

"What did I do?" - Josh asks shakily.

"You made me fall in love with you?!" - Tyler yells.

Josh drops his hand from where it was holding the door knob. He looks like his world got turned upside down. Maybe it did. He stares at Tyler, wish his lips apart. He stares and stares and stares. Then he smiles a little.

"You-You love m-me?" - he blushes violently.

Tyler's head is spinning, he still can't steady his breathing and black dots are dancing around.

"And now I can't breath." - He mumbled unimpressed. "Fuck you."

Josh opens his mouth to say something, but Tyler doesn't hear it.

He gracefully passes out in shocked Josh's arms.


	14. They say stay in your lane, man

_* Brendon *_

The tiny spark of sunlight managed to fall directly on his face and wake him up. So Brendon decided to get up from his warm,cozy bed and prepare himself the breakfast. He crawls up on his feet and stretches, weird sounds escape his lungs. He wraps the blanket around his shoulder, like a superhero (who he is) and strides towards the kitchen. He passes Josh's room and something strange catches his eyes. A yawn dies in his mouth as he blinks at the scene in front of him.

There's Josh kneeled on the floor with a panicked look. And there's Tyler laying on his lap, definetly knocked out.

"Oh." - Brendon mumbles. "You've finally killed him."

Josh's wide eyes snap up at him.

"No! What?! No, he passed out and I have no idea what to-What am I supposed to do?!" - Josh shrieks. But before Brendon can say something, Tyler lets out a quiet whimper and his eyes open. He looks up at Josh curiously and confused.

"Whatever. Creeps." - Brendon rolls his eyes and continues his trip to the kitchen.

On his way, he decides he needs to buy the new slippers,because these ones are already ripped to shreds. He walks into the kitchen and is instantly met with a stranger sight, than Josh and unconscious Tyler.

Ryan, with an apron hanging on his body, is cooking something (that smells strange(. There's water boiling in a pot, coffee machine is buzzing, and the whole kitchen is jut a huge mess. 

Brendon gapes and stares at Ryan.

"What the hell is going on?" - He asks, confused as hell.

"Oh, hey!" - Ryan turns around. "You've startled me. I was-I'm making a pie."

"A pie?" - Brendon blinks.

"Yes! You love pies, right?" - Ryan smiles at him.

Something's wrong. Is he dreaming?

"Are you cooking for me?" - Brendon asks slowly.

"Yeah." - Ryan shrugs, the grin still plastered on his face. "And them." - He nods towards the table.

Brendon can see Gerard, Frank and Mikey sitting beside the table, chatting about something unimportant (probably comics) and sipping coffee. 

"But, in fact, I was planning to cook only for _you._ " - Ryan says quietly and chuckles. "But it's hard to get rid of them."

"Are you okay?" - Brendon finally asks. 

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You never cook. And you seem.. Um, well. You seem too-"

"Happy?" - Ryan cuts him off.

"Yeah." - Brendon breathes.

"Well. I've had something to help me with my mood, ya know." - Ryan winks. His nose scrunches suddenly. "Oh, fuck! The pie is burning!"

He bolts towards the oven and tries to turn it off. 

Brendon's still staring at him as the realization hits him. Of course Ryan's high. He's higher than the fucking Empire State building. He could see it in the way Ryan moved, talked, the way his eyes darted from one spot to another. Brendon sighs and shakes his head. 

"Ryan."

Ryan's cutting his pie with a huge knife. He seems too concentrated to hear Brendon's voice, so he approaches the boy and touches his forearm. He's about to call his name again, but the second he touches Ryan the boy flinches and jumps away. He drops the knife to the floor with a loud noise. 

His eyes are wide and he's breathing heavily. The sound attracted everybody's attention in the kitchen. Gerard, Frank and Mikey stare up at Ryan and Brendon confused.

"It's just me,Ryan." - Brendon mumbles. He takes a step forward, but Ryan moves back.

"Don't-I need to cut the pie-It's getting cold." - He rambles. He grabs the knife from the floor and gets back to cutting the food. His hands are shaking heavily, eyes are still wide, pupils dilated. 

"You're going to cut yourself." - Brendon tries to take the knife away, but Ryan pushes him weakly and hardenes his grip on the knife. 

"It needs to be cut, I need to cut it evenly." - He's mumbling to himself. 

"Fuck the pie, Ryan!" - Brendon finally yells. He grabs the knife from the boy's hands and drops it into the kitchen sink. 

"Give it back." - Ryan breathes. "Brendon, give it back I need to-"

"Cut the pie, we get it!" - Brendon yells again. "But I'm not trusting you with a knife when you're in this state. Look at yourself!"

"Brendon." - Ryan sighs. "Stop behaving like you're my mother. Give the fucking knife back."

"No." - Brendon crosses his arms. "I won't give you the knife. You better go upstairs and sleep that shit off."

"Give me the knife!" - Ryan yells.

"No." - Brendon shakes his head.

"Ryan." - Gerard's voice calls the boy. Ryan turns his head to face his red-headed friend. "He's right,mate. And you know it. You better go and sleep it off."

Ryan inhales furiously. He takes off the apron and throws it down on the floor. Then he grabs the plate with a pie and drops it into the trash can. 

"Ryan, what-" 

"Fuck you, Brendon." - He spits and pushes past Brendon, who's staring at him with wide eyes. "Fuck you, for thinking that you can tell me what to do. Fuck you for playing our mom. And fuck you!" - He turns to his friends. "For thinking I'm not stable enough to be trusted with a fucking knife.""

Brendon opens his mouth to say something, but Ryan's already storming off the kitchen. So he's left there, frozen to the spot. He feels a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"You did the right thing,man." - Mikey mumbles. "He's been up and high since 6 a.m. He has some fucking problems."

Brendon sighs in response and strides out from the kitchen, not giving another fuck about his morning coffee. 

"Oh, I've heard Josh killed Tyler this morning." - He hears Mikey's voice before he's running up the stairs.


	15. House of Shmemories

_* Gerard *_

The TV light washes his face white. He sips the beer from his bottle and burps loudly.

"Nice. Now you have to scratch your balls and smell your fingers." - Frank rolls his eyes.

"Hey, I have _you_ for that." - Gerard grins and nudges Frank's shoulder. 

"Shut up, I'm listening."

"Come on, Frankie. Pay attention to me. You know I hate your stupid TV-shows." - Gerard whines and pouts and his boyfriend.

"Fine." - Frank rolls his eyes and turns off TV with one click on the remote. He turns his attention to Gerard. "So?"

"Wanna talk about the last "X-Men" edition?"

Frank's eyes lighten up. He leans forward and nods quickly.

"Yeah, of course!"

"Nerds." - The hear a voice behind their backs. Gerard turns his head to face Brendon, standing in the doorway with a mug in his hand.

"Excuse me?" - He asks.

"You two are literally made for each-other." - Brendon flops down on the couch and sips his tea.

"Yeah. And you are literally cock-blocking."

"You were planning to talk about some stupid comics." 

"Yes. And that is just as saint as having sex." - Frank notes.

Brendon blinks at them, then shakes his head and sighs.

"I can't believe I live with you creeps."

"Oh, you think we are the creeps?" - Gerard crosses his arms on the chest.

"Well, of course, the number one creep is-"

"Me." 

Brendon screeches and nearly drops his mug. Gerard smiles at someone behind his back.

"Hello, Tyler."

Brendon jumps up to his feet furiously and turns around.

"How long-You-Fuck! You're getting annoying!" - He storms off from the living room. Tyler stands there, blinking and not quite getting the whole "annoying" situation.

"Forget it, Ty." - Frank grins. "He's on nerves because of the Curly."

"Which Curly exactly?" - Tyler asks.

"Not yours." - Gerard mumbles.

"Mine? I don't own any Curlies." - Blush is raising on his cheeks. Tyler is a bad liar.

"Sure. Not even a single, bubble-gum-haired Asian Curly."

Tyler opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, Frank's getting up and dragging Gerard out from the room to their bedroom.

* * *

_* Ryan *_

He's sitting on the edge of his bed with head in his hands. Unbearable pain is piercing through his brain. Plus, he's ashamed. The drugs faded off and now he's facing his mourning outburst with a clear head and God, he wants to strangle himself. He hears footsteps in the hall and snaps his head up. He forgot to close the door.

Josh walks past his door with one drumstick in his hand, waving it around and playing on his imaginary drums. He glances into Ryan's room and suddenly freezes on his spot as he meets Ryan's eyes.

"Woah." - He breaths and walks into the room without invitation. "Fuck's the matter with you?"

Ryan sighs and hangs his head.

"Nothing."

"Hey." - The bed dips from the weight beside him as Josh sits down." "I'm your fifth best friend in the world, you said that yourself once. Come on, talk to me." 

Ryan rolls his eyes at this. "It's nothing."

"Nothing is the reason you're up here, sitting all alone by yourself and looking like wreck?"

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"Look-" - He clears his throat and looks at his fifth best friend in the world. "I'm fine. Just need to clear my head."

"Okay." - Josh shrugs and gets up. "You can clear your head while accompanying me to the grocery shop."

"Josh, no."

"Josh, yes." - Josh grabs a random hoodie from the floor and throws it to the Ryan. "Get dressed."

It's hard not to obey a guy with tons of muscles and a drumstick. So only five minutes later, Ryan follows him as Josh marches down the stairs.

"We're going to the groooceeriieeeees." - He shouts. "Give me the liiiist!"

A red head pops from the kitchen, with brows furrowed.

"Grab some Oranges for me, will ya?"

"Nope." - Josh puts his jacket on. "Brendon, the list!"

Brendon appears in the hallway,wearing nothing but his boxers, with a long list of products in his hands. He scratches his head and hands the list to Josh. Ryan's still standing on the third step with hands in his pockets. He hopes Brendon doesn't see him.

"Here. Please, don't forget the toilet paper. And tea-bags. And milk."

"I won't. Ryan's here to remind me.," - Josh points at him while he's reading the list. 

Fucking perfect.

Brendon's eyes shoot up and go wide as he spots Ryan. His lips form the "o" , like he's trying to say something. Ryan wishes he won't.

"Wait-Gimme the pen, I need to add some Red-Bulls." - Josh spins around, looking for the pen. "Tyler?!"

"Wha'?" - A muffled voice comes from the living room.

"Give me the pencil you're keeping behind your ear, you arsty prick." 

Ryan still feels Brendon's eyes on him as Josh marches out from the hallway to the living room. He gulps and tries hard not to look back at him.

"Ryan."

He wants to groan now. But he doesn't. He looks down at the boy.

"I think we need to talk." - Ryan opens his mouth to protest but Brendon cuts him off with a wave of his hand. "Shut up. You know we need to. You have to make up your mind about me. 'Cause I'm not a fucking toy." - He's standing in front of Ryan now, and _wow, when did he approach him?_

Ryan sighs.

"You need to let me into the curly head of yours." - Brendon whispers softly. Ryan chuckles and shakes his head. "No, don't you shake your head."

"Brendon-"

"You've been playing around with me for years. I'm done, Ry. You either let me be with you, or I'm fucking done." 

"Okay." - Ryan answers instantly. The thought of Brendon being done with him scares him.

"Okay?" - Brendon blinks, looking surprised at how short this conversation was.

"Okay, Bren."

Brendon smirks then, with that stupid,attractive smirk of him. Ryan wants to smile back but Josh's singing voice startles him and he nearly falls down the stairs.

"Let's go get some groceeerieees."

"Leave the fucking drumstick,mate." - Brendon mumbles.

"Bye, Urine." - The door shuts in front of Brendon's face.

"GET THIS FUCKING BURNT TOAST AWAY FROM HERE!!!!"- Mikey's furious voice rings through the house.


	16. Things have changed for me - and that's whatever

_* Tyler *_

He's already missed two weeks of classes. Not that he regrets, because he isn't really ready to face the humiliation that awaits for him. But his GPA is dropping. Meaning he's going to have problems with getting his degree and no - he's not ready for it. So, today he decides that he'll go back to university. Tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow works. Not today, because there's a lot of things he needs to do. Like clearing his bathroom mirror, or counting his mugs, or sorting his brushes in alphabetical order by their names. Yes, each of them have their names. Yes, Tyler names his brushes. No, that's none of your business.

Right now he's sitting on the couch, holding his knees closer to his chest and resting his chin on top of them. He's staring at TV blankly, trying to recall the last time he's spoken to his brother. Why did he even think about him in the first place? Probably because he was thinking about his brushes and one of his brushes is called Zachary and his brother's name is Zack. Thoughts tend to do that - drag you far away from your starting point.

He hadn't talked to Zack since last Christmas. He clearly remembers the phone call he got from his brother - it was short and dull, and Tyler could feel in his guts that his mother had to literally force Zack to call him. Talking of his mother - she hasn't called this week. Strange. She always calls him on Sundays, after the church. Tyler hates churches. Always hated, to be honest, even though his mother has been dragging him to churches since he was an embryo. He doesn't really believe in God. What is God, to start with? What is there to believe in?

Wait, how did he get into this deep thoughts? All he did was think about Zachary - his huge brush for acrylic paints. Oh, he needs new paints. Especially red. But he always can steal some of Gerard's hair dye. At the end of the day - it's definitely Gerard who leaves that burnt toast in the kitchen.

His mega-important flow of thoughts gets interrupted when somebody flops down on the couch beside him. He can see the bright pink color from the corner of his eyes. Pink means one person in this house.

"He-yaa, Tyleer." - Josh drags, trying to look as cool as he can, but nah, he looks awkward.

"Hi." - Tyler meows.

"Wha'cha doin'?"

"Thinking." - Tyler shrugs.

" 'Bout?"

"Zachary."

"Who?" - Josh's bros furrow.

"Forget it." - Tyler sighs and looks at Josh. "How are you?"

"What?" - Josh blinks.

"How are you?"

"Um. Fine? I thought nobody asks that question in this house." - Josh mumbles, still surprised.

"Well, then - I am nobody. Mr. Nobody. Like Jared Leto from that movie." 

"What movie?"

Tyler looks at the curly boy with a disappointment. Josh gulps and looks away from him. They sit in silence for the next couple of minutes until Josh speaks up again.

"What are we?"

"Huh?" - Tyler asks automatically, his voice high-pitched.

"You and I. We-Like-We kissed and-um. You kinda told me you liked me. So I-"

"You want to be _something_ with me?" - Tyler asks quietly, voice full of surprise.

Josh nods, blush raises on his cheeks.

"Wow. Why? I mean, you don't even know me."

"Tyler, we've been living in the same house for two years." - Josh sighs. "I know stuff about you. I know that you like dark coffee, not a glimpse of milk or sugar in it. I know you steal Gerard's hair dye for your art. I know you walk barefoot all the time, I know you're not the one who leaves the burnt toast in the toaster, I know you eat your cereal straight from the box, I know you love 'X-Files' more than any other tv-show, I know you think your art is shit when it's actually beautiful and unique. I know you miss your cat Pumpkin, whom you haven't seen for almost a year now. I know your favorite book is 'Master and Margarita' because every time you re-read it - you find something new about the story. I know you cry every time you watch Alladin, because you think the Carpet is an underappreciated character. I know you hate ketchup and I know you have a scar on your left hand from when you fell off from the bike. I know-"

"Okay, Okay, I get it, stop. Wow, you're a quite stalker aren't you?" - Tyler breathes and smiles. To say he's impressed is to say nothing. He still feels Josh's hopeful eyes on his face.

"I know you, Tyler. Not all of you, Maybe not even a half. But I want to know you, because you're the most interesting, beautiful and creative person I've ever met."

Tyler feels the blood boiling in his veins. He swallows hardly and finally dares to meet Josh's eyes.

They remind him of hazelnuts. He loves hazelnuts. They remind him of his grandma. 

"You remind me of my grandma." - Tyler blurts. That's definitely not what he wanted to say. 

Josh's eyes bulge.

"No-I mean. Fuck. That's not what I meant to say. It actually was something really romantic and cheesy in my brain, I just couldn't formulate it." - Tyler shakes his head. Josh smiles at him, with his stupid crinkled eyes.

"Okay, Josh." - Tyler breaths finally. "Let's be _something_ then."

* * * 

_* Brendon *_

He's looking down at sleeping Ryan beside him. Somehow, he doesn't even know how, they ended up here. In his room. Holding each-other, like their lives depend on it. Brendon decided that he's not going to let Ryan out of his sight for a long time. He can't let Ryan fall back into his bad habits. Drugs, drinking. It had to be over. Brendon promised himself to take care of the curly boy. 

Ryan's eyelids stir before they open. He blinks away the blur and concentrates on Brendon's face.

"Hey." - Brendon whispers.

"Hi." - Ryan responds, staring up at him from under his eyelashes. 

_God, he looks magical._

"Slept well?" 

"I guess." 

"You kinda look beautiful." - Brendon says suddenly. He can see the boy didn't expect it from the way Ryan's eyes widen.

"I-um-thanks, kinda?" - Ryan mumbles and looks away.

"You know I've got you, right?" - Brendon asks softly.

Ryan doesn't respond. He stares at the wall beside him and tries to steady his breathing.

"I've got you, Ryan." - Brendon gently touches the boy's cheek and he feels Ryan leaning in his touch. "Whatever's going on inside of your head - I'm here."

"You can't say that." - Ryan shakes his head slowly. "You don't-It's not fair. It's my shit and I can't drown you in it."

"Yes you can. I want to. I want to drown in your shit."

"But-"

"No buts. I want to, okay?"

"Why?" - Ryan asks. Honestly, in the way that breaks Brendon heart. The way that says _"I don't deserve it."_ His heart aches so much he can't control himself for a moment. He doesn't even think before the words leave his mouth.

"Because I'm in love with you."

The room drowns in intense silence. 

Ryan stares at him, with eyes wide and lips parted. Realization hits Brendon and something in his chest twirls. He sits up in the bed quickly.

"Shit. Fuck. i'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-Fuck." - He shakes his head and tried to crawl out of the blankets. Ryan's still staring at him as he struggles to kick off one of the covers.

"Ryan-I'm sorry, God. This is so stupid, I didn't think-"

"Brendon." - Ryan cuts him off.

His breath hitches and he looks at Ryan, embarrassed.

"It's okay, Brendon." - Ryan says softly. His eyes radiate something Brendon has never seen before - something warm. Something peaceful. He notices glimpses of tears in Ryan's chocolate eyes.

"Oh, no. No, please, Don't cry. I'm so fucking sorry." - He wipes Ryan's cheeks with his thumbs, panic raises in his chest. "What have I done, I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Brendon." - Ryan whispers shakily. Brendon freezes, his hand still touching Ryan's cheek.

"Wha'?" - He blinks.

"Thank you for loving me." - He says barely above the whisper with his voice craking. More tears slide down the boy's face and Brendon can't hold it anymore. He locks Ryan into his embrace, letting the boy bury his face in his neck. He feels Ryan's body wrecking and trembling from sobs. "Th-Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." - He continues to mumble.

Brendon kisses his messy hair hushes him.

"Don't cry,angel." - He whispers, gently stroking Ryan's curls. "Please, don't cry."

* * * 

_* Mikey *_

He's sitting on the carpet beside TV. He saw Frank and Gerard locking up in the bathroom together. He spotted Tyler walking into Josh's room. He heard Brendon's voice interlaced with Ryan's upstairs.

And there's only one thought in his head:

_What the hell am I doing here?_

He shrugs then, stuffs his mouth with pop corn and continues to watch the rest of "Stranger Things." 


	17. Collar full of dollars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some fun stuff  
> ha haha haha ha ha haha haha haha ha ha 
> 
> (it's the meme-laugh with a melody of "what makes you beautiful", if you did not get it.)
> 
> it's like a crack chapter. or you could call it a filler?  
> It's 5:42 am, okay? i can't sleep. you can't blame me.

_* Gerard *_

The door shuts behind his back loudly. He drops his bag on the "chair-for-dropping-your-bags" and kicks off his sneakers. He is in a desperate need of caffeine, work burns him out everyday. He strides into the kitchen and approaches the coffee machine. He peeks into the cupboard and manages to find one lonely mug in there. He grabs it and stares down at the writing.

_Tyler's another mug._

He shrugs a shoulder and starts preparing himself a drink. After a few minutes, when his perfectly-sweetened and darkened coffee is ready, he picks the mug gently and walks into the living room, which is full of people, for some reason.

It's strange, if you think about it. It's a rare thing for all of them to be in the same room at the same time. Maybe because there's seven of them and the rooms in this house are tiny as fuck. He looks around, trying to spot a place for his bum. Josh is sprawled on the couch, his fingers not-so-unnoticeably touching Tyler's hair,who's sitting right in front of him on the floor and is staring up at TV like a fucking zombie. Brendon's sitting at the end of the couch, near Josh's legs. He's sipping something strange from the glass. _Probably one of his green smoothies, ew._ Ryan's sitting on the old, brown sofa they've had for almost a year now. Brendon dragged it from some stupid garage sale. It's ugly, old and nearly destroyed. But it's very comfortable, for some unexplained reason. Ryan's flipping through the book, yawning from time to time, poking Frank, who's sitting near him, and reading him stuff from his book.

And then there's Mikey. Sitting in the middle of the room on the rug, with his legs crossed. He's staring at the wall in front of him like it's the most interesting thing in the world. 

Gerard's brows furrow. He approaches his brother, kneels beside him and looks at the wall, trying to see what Mikey's staring at.

"What are you doing?" - He finally asks.

"Trying to give this wall a meaning." - Mikey mumbles, his gaze never leaving the white wall.

"What?"

"Leave him." - Brendon calls. "He's been sitting like that for hours."

Gerard throws one last concerned look at his brother, than straightens up and approached the couch.

"Shorten yourself, Bubblegum." - He tells Josh.

"Huh?" - Josh looks up at him, tearing his eyes off the TV.

"Sit up!"

Josh rolls his eyes, lazily transforms into the sitting position and lets Gerard squeeze between him and Brendon.

"What'cha watching?" - _Wow, that sounded weird._

"Scooby-Do." - Tyler replies casually.

"Oh." - Gerard blinks. "And why are you watching that?"

"Brendon wants to watch the news because he's boring. I want to see the new "Spider-man" movie. Ryan wants to watch the National Geography, 'cause he's a freak. Frank wants to listen to MTV, Tyler wants to watch Anime and Mikey doesn't give a flying fuck. So, we decided to watch something neutral - something that nobody wants to watch. So here it is - Scooby-Do." - Josh explains slowly.

"I've already regretted asking at least five times while you were answering." - Gerard mumbles and sips his coffee.

"How was work, Gee?" - Frank asks him from where he's sitting on the sofa on the other end of the room.

"Sucked, as always. Had a customer who wanted to buy the "X-Men" comics in DC section, Frank. Fucking "X-Men" in fucking DC section." - Gerard whines.

"Oh, Lord." - Frank gasps. "I'm really sad out state doesn't execute people anymore."

"You two are the biggest nerds in the whole fucking universe, you know that right?" - Brendon snaps.

"Fuck off, Urine." - Frank raises his middle finger. 

"Will you shut up?! I'm listening!" - Tyler hisses.

"What is there to listen to?! Sheriff's the fucking ghost. That's it - mystery's solved." - Brendon yells.

"Nooooo, why did you have to say that?!" - Josh cries and throws a pillow at him furiously. Gerard doesn't get enough time to move away and the pillows ends up hitting him right in the head. His coffee spills on Brendon's pants, or to be exact, on his "sacral-area". 

The house fills up with screeching.

"AAAH!! MY DICK! MY DICK'S BURNING!!" - Brendon screams, jumping on his feet.

"Oh my-Let me-Fuck!" - Gerard, having no idea how to help his agonizing friend, decides to blow some cold air on Brendon's crotch. 

"WHAT ARE YOU-IT'S FUCKING BURNING!!"

"Gee, I don't think it's working." - Frank whispers to his boyfriend.

"DUN I WILL KILL YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKER! I WILL NEVER HAVE KIDS BECAUSE OF YOU!!! WHAT WILL I TELL MY WIFE?!!"

"You don't have wife, Brendon, you're gay!!" - Josh yells back.

"Can a guy watch a fucking cartoon peacefully in this house?!" - Tyler snaps.

"FUCK YOU,MY DICK IS BURNING!"

"Come on, let's get some ice on that." - Frank drags Brendon out of the living room.

"And it's not my fault!" - Gerard shouts.

"That's it!" - Tyler gets up suddenly. "I'm going up to my room to watch some Scooby-Do on my laptop. Josh, you're welcome to join. Everyone else can go fuck themselves. Or each-other."

With these words, Tyler leaves the room and Josh doesn't hesitate to follow like a lost puppy.

Ryan looks at Gerard with a tired gaze and sighs.

"You knowing it's coming, right?" - He sighs.

"Yeap." - Gerard nods. "In three.. Two.. One.."

"DID YOU JUST-DON'T TOUCH MY CROTCH, IERO!!!"

"We have to put some ice on that!!"

Gerard rolls his eyes and gets up from his seat.

"Come on, Ry. Let's help our idiotic peaces of boyfriends."

"Actually, I'm not sure about the "boyfriend" part..." - Ryan catches up with Gerard, who's already walking to the kitchen.

 

_* Mikey. *_

We really should get a little photo frame to hang on this wall. It would look pretty. 

I like pretty stuff.


	18. fucking is the most fun anyone can have

* Josh *

Quiet mumbles force him to unglue his eyelids and blink the sleep away. He sits up in the bed lazily and scratches his head. It's too early. Josh glances at the watches that stand on the nightstand. 11 A.M. Yeah, too early. The mumbling gets cut off and in a moment he spots Tyler with a corner of his eye. Tyler is wearing nothing but his boxers when he walks into Josh's room without knocking. He strides towards the bed and flops down near the other boy.

"It got sold." - Tyler breathes.

"Good morning to you, too. And what are you talking about?" - Josh yawns.

"My piece. The painting of you. Walker bought it." - Tyler says. Josh's eyes grow wide.

"What?! Were you even planning to sell it?"

"No. But, Josh, he called me this morning. Do you know how much he was willing to pay? Five thousand bucks. Five thousand for my drawing." - Tyler speaks and looks like he still has a hard time believing his art got sold.

"This is amazing!" - Josh's face breaks in grin. "Tyler, this is-Wow!" - I am so proud of you, he wants to add. But he doesn't.

"I will receive my check tomorrow." - Tyler mumbles. "This is unbelievable."

"Not at all! you are a wonderful artist-"

"I've painted dozens of other stuff, Josh. But the only thing that got sold was your portrait. Do you know what that means?"

Josh blinks. His heart starts beating faster, his hands are sweating. 

"That I'm really good at painting the portraits." 

"Tosser!" - Josh laughs and throws a pillow at Tyler.

__

_*Gerard*_

"Please tell me you bought milk yesterday." 

"Um-" - Gerard tries to think of something quickly. "I did, actually. But I got mobbed on my way home and they stole it. The milk. Yeah."

Mikey shuts the fridge door and blinks at his brother, who's sitting on the counter and avoiding his gaze.

"Oh." - He mumbles. "Well, that sucks."

"I know right." - Gerard nods and sips his coffee. 

"Good morning, Ways." - Brendon walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "How's the day going so far?"

"Brendon."

"Yeah?" - The boy asks, grabbing an apple from the vase and biting down on it.

"Those are my boxers."

Brendon glances down at the Hulk boxers and rolls his eyes.

"Should have known." - He scoffs at Gerard. "Have you seen Ryan?"

"The boy's disappeared on you again?" - Mikey asks.

"I don't know. I mean-I haven't seen him this morning. And he doesn't have classes today. So it's strange."

"You're getting paranoid." - The redhead mumbles. "He's not going anywhere from you, relax."

"Whatever." - Brendon throws an apple to the trash can and walks out of the kitchen.

__  
_*Ryan*_

His heart is beating like crazy. He waits for the familiar voice to answer the phone, as he stands in the freezing cold behind their house. His mind is blank, his thoughts are dissolving. He doesn't even know what he's doing.

 _"Hello?"_ \- He hears a confused voice. Shivers run down his spine and his throat closes.

"Mom?" - He rasps shakily.

 _"Hello? George, is that you?"_ \- She gasps. 

"Hi, mom." - He whispers, trying to steady his breathing.

_"Where are you George? Is everything okay?"_

"Yeah." - Ryan closes his eyes and sighs. He's been hating her for too long. For too fucking long. "How are you, mom?"

_"I-I'm okay. The funeral went fine, there was so many people. Why-Why didn't you come, George? I was waiting. We all were waiting for you."_

"I couldn't." - He responds honestly. "I couldn't and I didn't want to."

_"But-"_

"Mom, I miss you." - He blurts suddenly. His body starts to tremble as he holds the phone closer to his ear. "Mom, fuck, I miss you so much. I am so sorry for being a shitty son-"

 _"George, don't be silly!"_ \- He hears his mother's shaky voice. _"You are my son, and I was happy when you escaped from your father's grip. I could never protect you from your father, George."_

He knows what. That's why he was trying to prove to himself that he hated his mother. Only because she couldn't defend him, only because she left and rescued herself.

"I miss you." - He feels tears running down his cheeks. "There's so much I want to tell you. About me, about my life. Everything."

 _"You can visit me whenever you want.."_ \- She says softly. _"This is your house._

"No, it's not." - He shakes his head. "It's not." 

_"You can visit me anytime you wish, George."_

"Yeah, okay, mom." - He whispers and smiles, ignoring wet marks on his cheeks. "I love you."

_"I love you too, George. Hope to see you soon."_

"And mom?"

_"Yes, love?"_

"It's Ryan. Not George-that's not my name. It belongs to him. 

_"Of course, Ryan. Good bye."_

She hangs up, but Ryan is still clutching the phone in his hand. His shoulders are shaking, and he can't stop a wet sob escaping his lungs. He slides down, his back against the wall of their house and curses. 

"You called her." - He hears a soft voice beside him. Ryan lifts his eyes only to be met with Brendon's concerned ones. The boy is staring down at him, and judging from the look on his face - he heard it all. So Ryan nods and wipes the tears with the sleeve of his sweater. 

"Hey, no. Don't hide. Not from me." - Brendon whispers and sits down beside him on the ground. He wraps an arm around Ryan's trembling shoulders. "You okay?"

"Will be." - He mumbles and sniffs. The raven-haired boy locks him in his embrace, letting Ryan bury his head in his warm chest and runs a hand through his curls. 

"Of course you will be okay." - Brendon whispers and places a kiss on the top of Ryan's head. "I've got you."

Ryan closes his eyes and lets himself be wrapped in strong, warm arms. The cold air doesn't bother him suddenly, because his insides feel warm and protected. For the first time in his life - he feels protected. 

"Thanks." - He whispers and lets his consciousness drift away.


End file.
